The Elder and the Young
by KLMeri
Summary: Sequel to The Man and the Memory. Jim's soul is caged, McCoy is dying without a cure, and Spock has hijacked the Enterprise in an attempt to save them both. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title**: The Elder and the Young (1/?)  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek AOS  
**Characters**: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Spock!Prime  
**Summary**: Final part of a trilogy; follows _The Boy and the Sea Dragon_ and _The Man and the Memory._ Jim's soul is caged, McCoy is dying without a cure, and Spock has hijacked the Enterprise in an attempt to save them both.  
**A/N**: Not sure if it's canon or fanon, but Spock!Prime takes the name Selek to keep his identity a secret. I'm following that, plus the assumption that Jim never told McCoy who Selek really is, as hinted in _The Boy and the Sea Dragon_.

**

* * *

Part One**

Acting Captain Spock greets the newcomer with a traditional Vulcan salutation. The older Vulcan returns the greeting with a lift of properly splayed fingers and a soft look in his eyes.

McCoy waits his turn before saying, "Welcome aboard, Sir."

"I would be most pleased if you address me as… Selek, Doctor McCoy."

The doctor nods his acceptance although he notes that Selek's eyes meet Spock's once in passing. McCoy has the feeling he just missed something vital. He looks between the faces of the Vulcans—which are uncannily similar and the question pops out of his mouth, "Are y'all related?"

Selek and Spock both lift their eyebrows simultaneously and that freaks Leonard out on a small scale.

"My house does share a common ancestry with Spock's," answers the elder when Spock is not forthcoming.

McCoy decides to let that line of questioning go and he steps back to make room for the Vulcan to exit the shuttle bay. "Well, we best get this show on the road before we're waylaid by troopers." He thinks off-handedly it's rather tickling that he now has two Vulcans to annoy with his turns of phrase.

Spock excuses himself when Leonard offers to show Selek to his quarters. The Acting Captain, no doubt, takes Leonard's statement at face value and is in a hurry to have the Enterprise on course again—and away from any other 'Fleet-manned ships scouring for the flagship.

Trying his best not to follow that dismal train of thought, Leonard focuses on the new arrival and, as Spock had quipped mysteriously, the key to finding a cure for xenopolycythemia. Selek and the doctor walk together, neither in a hurry, and chat amicably.

All too soon, Leonard shows Selek into the prepared guest's quarters and they stand awkwardly in parting at the entrance. At least, Leonard feels unsettled and awkward. The Vulcan is the face of calm.

Leonard clears his throat, "If you need directions, any of us will be glad to help. I'm usually in Sickbay unless duty calls me elsewhere."

"Your hospitality is gracious, indeed. However, I imagine that I will manage quite well without a guide."

Damn, he's doing that smiling bit with his eyes, like Leonard amuses the Vulcan by assuming that Selek is hapless on a constitution-class starship.

_An old Vulcan without a stick up his ass_, McCoy thinks wryly. He had thought them to be non-existent. Spock, with his half-Vulcan heritage, could be prodded into a tame humor once and a while. This one is similar—and if McCoy admits it, easier to talk to than the Vulcan he's known for several years.

And it's along that reasoning that makes Selek too familiar—and too strange in his relaxed state. Is it unique to him or a behavior that Selek developed with age? He doesn't realize that he has voiced that thought aloud until the Vulcan responds, "Fascinating."

McCoy stares. "Excuse me?"

Selek remains unperturbed. "Doctor, you are… as I anticipated."

"I hope that's a compliment."

"It is."

"Then you won't mind me sayin' you're not quite how I pictured _you._"

Selek tilts his head. "Might I inquire why?"

Leonard is inspired to use a little tact. "When Spock said he had a Vulcan friend that knew—well, suspected—the myth about the Fabrini might be true… I thought you'd be a bit cuckoo for a Vulcan." Leonard winces, realizing it's probably not best to insult the person here to help save his life as well as discover one of the biggest medical breakthroughs of the century. "Sorry, I meant, ah, meant that it's kinda rare for a Vulcan to theorize _solely_ from lore."

"I assure you that my theory is based in fact." Selek doesn't seem offended at McCoy's bluthering, foot-in-mouth syndrome, thank God. The Vulcan pauses, adds, "—Fact, as I have experienced it."

That's interesting. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps that discussion is best left for another time, Doctor."

Leonard shrugs. "Okay." Then he remembers what he wanted to say all along. "Thank you."

Selek does not pretend ignorance. "While I appreciate your words, gratitude is unnecessary between us."

"I think it's rather necessary," McCoy says without heat. "After all, you're givin' me hope when I had none. I'm more thankful than you'll ever know."

Selek's gaze is heavy upon him and that signals an end of the conversation for McCoy. He tells Selek that it's best if he rest after the long journey to meet with the Enterprise, and Selek agrees. When Leonard turns to leave, Selek's words stop him.

"Live long and prosper, Leonard McCoy."

He looks back at Selek and answers, "I hope so."

Yet on the way back to his own quarters, McCoy thinks, _But I fear not._

They—not just him and Jim but Spock too—are in deep trouble. While Leonard can handle the fear of dying, he can't survive the guilt of it, knowing that if he isn't cured, Jim dies. And Spock… Spock has trashed his career on the slim chance that the Fabrini can be found, a cure concocted, and McCoy saved.

Leonard hasn't told him yet about the deal with the sea dragon.

Perhaps Spock has made a grave error by believing in him. After all, when everything is said and done and no matter how Leonard pictures the outcome, one of them _must_ lose in order for the others to win.

_

* * *

Two weeks earlier…_

_Spock stood alone in the Ready Room; McCoy found him there, silent and lost in thought._

"_Spock," interrupted the doctor quietly._

_The First Officer—now Acting Captain—half-turned at the sound of Leonard's voice. "Yes, Doctor?"_

"_We're ready to leave orbit."_

_Spock faced him fully then and McCoy got a good look at his eyes. Despite the Vulcan's resolute "Then we must proceed," Leonard stopped him with a hand held out, close enough to touch Spock's chest but not going so far as to breach the simple trust built between them._

"_Are you sure?" McCoy told him, "No one will think less of you if you want to turn back. I won't, I swear it, Spock."_

_Spock stared at him in a strange way. "The choice is not easy, as it should never be, but I do not doubt that I have made the right one."_

_Leonard weighed those words. "I know you—and I know how selfless you can be, but sometimes, Spock, the stakes are too high. You and I and everyone on this ship know what Starfleet has ordered you to do. And it won't be on _us_ when those orders are disobeyed." Leonard swallowed and said, "They'll declare you rogue."_

"_I understand."_

_He wanted positive proof that the Vulcan truly knew what he'd be giving up. "When Command catches up to us, the years you've invested in your career will be stripped away like they meant nothing."_

"_Doctor," Spock continued to say, "I am aware of this."_

"_Then how can you agree, Spock!" he cried. "I wasn't even in my right mind when I said let's do this—and, if I had been, I would have never said okay. It's not _right_ that you have to sacrifice what you worked so hard to build—"_

_Spock stopped him with a firm "Leonard" and an insistence to speak. "I see no other way to convince you of my decision if you do not wish to be convinced. I will merely say that you assume incorrectly when you say I am selfless."_

"_What?"_

"_I am not selfless," the Vulcan told him gently. "On the contrary, I am selfish in my actions. I desire only that which will set right a wrong… and I intend to pursue such a course until you, and Jim, are delivered from harm's way."_

_Leonard bowed his head. "I can't help but see how this is going to end badly for us, Spock."_

_Spock said nothing, then, only brushed shoulders with the doctor as he walked past. Silhouetted in the doorway, ready to enter the Bridge and send the Enterprise on a new and personal mission, Spock paused once._

_Still he said nothing, the proud curve of his stature speaking for him. The moment passed. Leonard lingered in the Ready Room, only the slightest, brief hum of the ship signaling their jump into warp-speed. He stayed there, thinking of the man who should be in the Captain's chair but was not, thinking of Spock who now sat there, with steely determination and without regret._

_Then he remembered the enemy who coveted that place of power, desired a destiny not rightfully his, and decided that the consequences of their present course could not match those of the alternative. Were they to give in to Starfleet and abandon their lost captain, in essence they would give in to the monster who stole James Kirk's soul. That burden would be too painful to bear. _

_As it stood, saving McCoy's life was the linchpin for saving Jim's. He knew this crew had no choice but to go on—and that he had to let them._


	2. Part Two

**A/N**: In my blissfully ignorant writing state, I've neglected to realize until now that not all STXI readers are going to be familiar with the original series storyline I'm working off of: McCoy's xenopolycythemia. Like all great older tv shows, each episode has a small encompassing plot. The Season 3 episode "For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky" is somewhat McCoy-centric—and one of the few. If you know it already, then feel free to skip on down to the story. I will attempt to convey the relevant parts of the episode in a few lines or less.

It begins with McCoy informing Kirk that he has the incurable disease xenopolycythemia and about one year to live. Cue the plot. There is an asteroid on course to run into the colony planet _Daran V_ and obliterate it. The Enterprise crew goes down to the surface, discovers it's a ship instead of an asteroid. There are humanoids living "underground" which believe they are on their homeworld _Yonada_ rather than traveling through space as the remnants of a race called the Fabrini. Point in case, McCoy decides to stay there because he's dying, and Kirk and Spock are told to abandon the mission—and essentially the doctor. They don't. So upon infiltrating the Oracle (the ship's computer) to offset the collision course, Spock realizes that the Fabrini preserved their extensive medical database and it includes a cure for xenopolycythemia. McCoy lives.

Any quotes/scenes from this episode will be italicized.

**

* * *

Part Two**

It's often easy to pray for a miracle and be disappointed.

McCoy idly pushes around the poorly replicated mashed potatoes on his tray, courtesy of Chapel who insisted that he not forego dinner.

"The Fabrini will be found, Leonard," she had said as she attempted to distract him from research. "Until then, you cannot afford to skip the important things in life."

He had not taken his eyes off the computer screen, half-listening, and replied, "Sure, okay." So McCoy was subsequently startled by the _smack_ of the food tray right next to him.

Christine merely smiled. "Eating is one of those important things."

Still, he finds that he doesn't have much of an appetite. When the door to his office opens, he welcomes the interruption and shoves the half-eaten meal to the side.

"May I join you?"

Leonard motions for Selek to take a seat at his desk. "Sure. Excuse the mess." He casts a rueful eye over the clutter. "I've never been much of a housekeeper."

The Vulcan surprises him by saying, "Indeed. I assume you allow someone else to prevent such chaos."

He stares for a moment. "Yeah, Christine. How did you know?"

If only Vulcans smiled enigmatically, without a doubt Selek would probably pull it off the best. "It was a logical deduction."

Uh-huh. And McCoy's a skyscraper-tall giant on a pogo stick.

He decides not to pursue that opportunity for teasing; after all, while Leonard suspects the elder Vulcan might welcome such mischievous behavior, he has known Selek for barely more than a week. Besides, Leonard actually gets along with this pointy-eared hobgoblin. Best not to mess that up.

He sighs with theatrics and leans back in his chair, contemplating putting his feet on his desk. (But there seems to be no free spot without a pile or stack that would topple over.) "Sorry, I don't have anything new and astounding to share." The last meeting to which Spock invited the doctor was a long discussion of physics equations, time projection, and enough hardcore math to keep Leonard from joining in on the conversation.

"Nor I."

McCoy rubs fingers over his right temple, trying to soothe the ache there. "You realize this is practically impossible, right?"

"To what do you refer?"

"I know you and Spock are from a race of acclaimed geniuses but how do you expect to find a spaceship that has supposedly been drifting for _ages_? I mean, this is all based on a _theory_—no offense."

"Ah, a matter which I do wish to discuss with you, Doctor McCoy."

He lifts an eyebrow in disbelief. "Please tell me I'm not expected to predict the future."

"Unnecessary—and highly improbable, as I do not believe you are inclined to such episodes."

He grins. "Thank God for that!"

Those eyes twinkle absurdly for a Vulcan. Then Selek fixes his gaze on McCoy and says, "Perhaps it is time you learn the truth."

He ignores the skittering of nerves along his spine. "And whose truth would that be?" is his mild question.

"Jim has not spoken of our acquaintance."

Leonard's brows come down. "You're sayin' you _know_ Jim Kirk?"

"I do. Our first encounter occurred on Delta Vega some years ago."

"But Jim was only there once—" _Oh shit._ He accuses, "You were the person who helped Jim and Scotty get off that iceberg of a planet!"

"Affirmative."

Jim had glossed over the specifics of that incident, simply telling his best friend, "Oh, there was this dude who knew how to beam us onto the Enterprise mid-warp. It was pretty cool." Leonard had immediately bitched at Jim for his attitude and forgotten to pursue the details of the story.

Leonard takes a minute to fit Selek into that picture and finds that his world tilts dangerously. He cannot fathom that Spock _and_ Jim know this person and have never mentioned Selek in any way. Why?

Of course, with his own memories still regrettably spotty, he isn't sure he would know if Jim or Spock dropped hints in the past. Now more than ever, Leonard wants his lingering amnesia gone. It sucks immeasurably when one realizes _oh great, there's another hole that needs filling_. He is rather steady in most areas, from his childhood to the Academy to, unfortunately, the Nero incident. Past that, things become hazy, like an elusive dream, unless it is a memory that prominently features Jim.

"Why are you telling me this?" Wariness rises with an ease that Leonard does not expect.

Selek looks at him in a way that makes his heart pound unhappily. "There are many and varied reasons, Leonard—"

Leonard? What happened to Doctor McCoy?

"—but perhaps the most crucial is why we are here today."

Now he's lost. "I thought we're here to find the Fabrini."

"We are here because you wish to save Jim."

McCoy pales, he knows that he does. "I don't understand."

Selek continues on in a gentle, yet firm voice. "I cannot imagine a Leonard McCoy who values himself over another in similar need. What do you believe you will achieve by saving your life before Jim's?"

No one has questioned him this way, not even Spock who is undoubtedly his friend and a fellow confidante. No one has thought to ask.

He tries to buffer Selek's bluntness with a slanted truth. "Can you blame a dying man for grasping at straws? We have no idea where Jim is but we _do_ have a lead on my cure."

"Yet you stated that you were uncertain of our success in locating the treatment for xenopolycythemia."

"I said it seemed unlikely." Leonard folds his arms across his chest. "What are you fishing for, Selek?"

"I am unable to reconcile what I know with what I am currently presented. It... disturbs me in a fashion I had not anticipated. I must ask." Selek wants to know, simply, "Why?"

His courage is nowhere to be found. "I don't know. You can't measure me with the same stick you would someone else. Let's just say I'm a bastard, a'right? I don't want to die tomorrow, two years, or even ten years from now."

Selek's silence is almost cutting. Leonard desperately seeks a change of subject. He finds none.

Eventually, the Vulcan must take pity on him. "I see that you are not ready to share your thoughts with me. Please know that I am available if the burden becomes too heavy." Selek stands and Leonard follows him to the door.

McCoy feels more alone after Selek departs than he did prior to the Vulcan's visit. He wonders if he is doing any of the people aboard the Enterprise a favor by holding back what he knows about Jim—and the sea dragon. It is not until, in the pitch black of his room, Leonard fights off sleep (its calling emptiness scares him) that he comes to a realization: Selek pushed him knowing that McCoy would not answer and yet somehow also knew that the man could be swayed in the light of his own fear. Leonard is simply terrified of facing the monster in that Abyss again.

His last, drifting thought is _How does Selek know me so well?_

* * *

Spock has his mind fixed several decks below, in the lab designated for the sole purpose of proposing a scientific miracle, though Spock's body is currently situated in the Captain's chair. He cannot sit like Jim would, relaxed and with a perfect sense of belonging. This position was never meant for Spock of Vulcan; that he accepted with a glad heart long ago. The call of captaincy does not yet entice him—perhaps because Spock is content to let greater men have the glory.

There is one such great man: James Tiberius Kirk.

_Jim_ to those whom Kirk considers friends and family.

The Vulcan gives no outward appearance of where his thoughts have detoured, only pulls in a breath that is subtly deeper than usual.

"Captain, we are now in range of _Lactra VII_." Lieutenant Chekov is speaking.

He vacates the chair and studies Chekov's panel of star-charts and flashing numbers. The Enterprise will need another seven days of journey at the present pace of warp factor three to the colony planet _Daran V_. He turns his back, as he does so asking the navigator to complete a report of arrival times in relation to the Enterprise's range of speed. The Russian nods and hunches over a PADD, muttering in his native language as he types furiously.

Spock is left to his thoughts again, so he turns over the conn to Sulu and enters the Ready Room. It is the one place he finds a surprising solace. Were he more whimsical in his thinking, he would say that Jim's spirit is heaviest here, an almost physical sense of presence that has not graced the starship in four weeks and six point nineteen days.

In a routine he has grown accustomed to, Spock faces the far wall, closes his eyes and meditates.

In this instance, he does not engage in a release and relaxation of the mind. He ruminates instead, as he has since the first of many private discussions with his counterpart, on a tale not his own.

There is a sequence of events that Spock recalls as though he had experienced them in person. It was the gift of the other Spock, a relay of information in a joint mind-meld; and it was, as they both deemed it, necessary.

He pictures the days of the other Leonard McCoy's illness, combs through details with an intense clarity:

A chunk of asteroid—a lie, its faux surface of dirt disguising metal and the humanoids therein.

_"Welcome to the world of Yonada."_

_"I can't say I think much of your welcome."_

A woman's voice he does not know, and one voice whose pitch is different but deeply familiar, resonating like beloved chords from a lute. (_Jim._)

He continues to pick carefully through the memories, sorting out the bewildered expressions of _Yonada_'s inhabitants and the death of a Fabrini. Examine and discard the High Priestess's denial and the wrath of the Oracle, even the feeling of pain so shocking that it sank into the marrow of his bones and lingered.

Then Spock comes to that moment he cannot seem to bypass: when McCoy's fate became known, guaranteed to be a painful death within a short span of time.

_Spock places his hands behind his back. "May I ask precisely what is troubling the doctor?"_

_"I don't think he would have told you himself, but I think you should know now." Grim words. "It's xenopolycythemia."_

How interesting that his counterpart experienced the same unsettling (unexplainable) pang as he also had. There are still times when that feeling returns like an aftershock to his system. (Spock has learned to stand extremely still and wait for it to pass.)

What intrigues Spock the most is an apparent parallel between universes. The other Spock faced the judgment of Starfleet Command and, despite the differing circumstances, found their orders to be unsatisfactory.

_"You have been relieved of all responsibility for the asteroid ship Yonada."_

The Spock of then had known that he could not easily, and on good conscience, abandon a situation; not when a chance remains, with his help, for resolution. But unlike now, there had been _Jim_ alongside the Vulcan. Thus when McCoy called for them, Jim went and Spock unerringly followed.

These memories do not help him, as he had been warned they would not. The elder Spock can recite the knowledge of the Fabrini, has shared the details of long hours in a laboratory, medical and science teams working side-by-side to create the cure. Yet it was Doctor McCoy himself who tied the loose ends together with his medical expertise and handed over the remarkable results to Spock's lab crew to synthesize the finished product. Simply put, the two Spocks are scientists, not doctors.

He thinks that his expanse of knowledge has never before been labeled as _lacking_, yet now it seems true.

They need Leonard McCoy to translate and re-assemble the Fabrini's medical brilliance. How ironic that the doctor is the crux of his cure.

Spock is, nonetheless, still uncertain that they will succeed because unsettling odds wage a fierce war against his hope. Have they made assumptions they should not?

The plan is this: Once situated near _Daran V_, the Enterprise will attempt to travel on a projected course, on an inverted journey to the asteroid ship. It is postulated that _Daran V_ remains a constant amidst an array of fluctuating variables. Were the course to be incorrect to the smallest degree, they shall fail. Thus both Vulcans spend intermittently long hours heavily revising and scrutinizing their calculations. While perfection is not attainable, the calculations have yet to fall within an acceptable range of error.

Perhaps that is because a simple truth continues to return to Spock like a harbinger of ill omen.

No two universes are equal.

The variations are infinite and unquantifiable. In essence, Spock has only a set of events that are foundation but not fact; not here, in this universe. And he must convince himself that McCoy's life is worth the risk of horrendous failure.

Would his Captain feel this... anxiety?

He thinks then of how Jim might interpret their plan to find the Fabrini. (A race which might not exist, perhaps has been completely swallowed when their sun went super-nova. Spock forces that possibility to the farthest reaches of his mind.)

In Jim's words, it would be "a shot in the dark."

Spock—the older, wiser, seemingly comfortable in his skin Spock—has said to him, "It is a leap of faith. One we _must_ take."

Yes, Spock stands alone in the Ready Room for a simple reason. He seeks the missing factor in the face of such ambiguity; the one, solid assurance that allows a half-Vulcan to carry on.

_But sadly, Jim is not here._

* * *

McCoy has asked Spock to meet him on the Observation Deck between shift changes. He woke up that morning with the determination to do as Selek suggested—only he intends to tell the Vulcan he has known the longest. It will be up to Spock to pass along what is said between them.

Lunch can't come and go fast enough, not once he's made up his mind. At one point during those early hours he spends in the medical bay, M'Benga shoots him a strange look and asks what has wound the esteem-able Doctor McCoy.

Leonard replies, "Just something I need to get off my chest."

"Can I help?"

He smiles. "You've been helping me quite a bit, Geoff. Have I said thank you?"

"Once or twice." M'Benga returns the smile. "I have to say that you doing rather better than the other head-cases I've treated."

He takes it for the joke that it is. "Ha ha. You know you're ecstatic that I didn't lose my doctoring smarts."

M'Benga folds his arms, imitating McCoy's usual stance. "Have you ever considered the possibility that I might enjoy a promotion to CMO?"

"Nah," says Leonard. "I'm the one who hired you. I know you aren't that _stupid._"

"Chief Medical Officer looks good on a resume."

"Yeah but consider what you'd be getting... Chief Medical Officer on a ship captained by _James T. Kirk._"

They sigh simultaneously and then share a laugh. Some things are best not wished for. Leonard's job is one of them.

So it is that Leonard finally distracts himself with a medical case or two (one engineer broke a finger and an female ensign wanted to be sure that she _wasn't_ pregnant) until the time arrives to depart for the Observation Deck to meet with Spock. He feels better, like a weight has lifted, and enters the turbolift with only a margin of nervousness and mostly confidence.

Yes, it's time that Spock knew there was a way to save Jim.

And if that hobgoblin doesn't like McCoy's plan, too bad for him. Leonard knows that this will be the sticking point, convincing Spock to go along without complaint, despite what it means for McCoy.

The lift murmurs _Observation Deck_ and McCoy steps into the lit hallway while thinking, _Maybe there's a way around the exchange. Maybe we can—_

He doesn't see the blow coming.

* * *

Spock enters the empty Observation Deck precisely on time and wishes that humans were more apt to prompt arrivals.

After a blessed silence of watching the stars turns into a light irritation, he comms over to the Bridge and asks Uhura to locate Doctor McCoy. She relays the computer's insistence that Leonard is on the level of the Observation Deck.

Spock engages in a methodical search and works his way from one end of the corridor to the other, poking his Vulcan nose into every nook and cranny.

* * *

"McCoy."

Leonard wakes sitting up to the insistent pounding in his head. _Bang bang bang_. A shadow squats next to him and lifts his chin. McCoy squints against the glare of light, making a sound of pain. His head is then allowed to resume resting against his chest. Leonard gingerly explores an over-sized knot on the back of his skull and asks in a slur, "What happened?"

"You had an accident."

He tries to focus on that voice, finally sees the face looking at him. "W-who are you?"

"Surely a doctor," says the stranger with a hint of teeth, "remembers his patients."

"Damn it, man, I've probably treated everyone on this ship. _State your name and rank._"

"Very well, Lieutenant-Commander. I am Paul. Ensign Paul Landers of Security." There is a hint of amusement in that voice. "I was recently attacked and suffered a mysterious illness." There is a pause. "I and three other men. I am recovered now." The last words resonate with deep satisfication.

Landers leans back into the light and Leonard has a moment to think _such dark eyes, like coal_ before his heart recognizes what his shaken brain is too slow to piece together. McCoy presses his back against the wall, suddenly terrified.

The ensign, with a sweet face turned cunning, looks pleased. "You recognize me."

"I know _you_," Leonard says, "not Landers. _You._"

The "McCoy" is both inviting and approving.

Leonard is having none of that. He pulls his feet under him and shakily stands up. "Get away from me."

"Do not be afraid."

"You've said that before, you bastard. Accident, huh?" are his bitter words. "What? Couldn't simply trip me? You had to bash my brains against the nearest hard surface?"

"The wound is not permanent."

That turns him from afraid to incensed. "Fuck you!"

Ensign Landers—the creature—regards the angry human. "You must know that you cannot forsake your destiny."

Leonard tries to walk away. An arm snakes out and chains him in place.

"Stay."

"Like hell I will!" Trying to twist and break the hold is hard when dizzy. "I—I'm meeting Spock and he'll find us here..." McCoy realizes that he has no fucking clue where _here_ is. He's hardly on familiar ground in the rest of the ship because of his damn missing memories.

"The Vulcan Spock is of no worry to me. And little use, both Spocks."

Leonard thinks this creature is not only creepy, it's fucking _insane_. "You expect me to believe that? If you've been on the ship all along, you could have cornered me anywhere. Yet I'm about to..." ..._tell Spock the truth_. Leonard understands clearly what motivates this thing. "You don't want anyone else to know what you're planning. Afraid we'll figure out a way to send you back to Hell?"

Landers has a pleasant smile. So it is much worse to see that expression and know it isn't the real Paul Landers doing the smiling. It is a wolf in sheep's clothing. "There are... conditions to our contract."

"I haven't made any damn contract with you!"

"You wish to restore Jem-me."

"I want to get him _away from you._"

"Very well. I give back your captain and friend to this universe. But it will not be so if you do not meet my needs."

Every devil writes in fine print. Leonard shudders at the implication of that word _needs._ "You gotta have my soul, destiny, or some shit like that. I get it."

"I need more."

"What else can I possibly give?"

Landers' hand squeezes a bruise into his arm. "Commitment."

McCoy snarls, "I said I'd do it!"

"If your commitment is true, then you will say nothing of it to another."

Leonard closes his eyes, fighting against the urge to sway. "Yeah. Fine. No telling anybody."

A hand, more like a claw actually, digs into the front of his shirt and pulls him close enough to catch the scent of the other's breath. It is metallic and strange. The word _raw_ comes to mind.

"Understand, McCoy, that _Jem-me_'s destiny is tempting. Betray us and I will keep it."

Leonard has to turn his head to the side just to take in air. "What makes my destiny as good? Why mine?" he wants to know.

He can almost feel that smile against his neck. "McCoy's," croons the sea dragon, "is bitter and sweet—"

Leonard jerks back as something sharp nips his skin. The creature lets him go.

It finishes, "—_and rare_."

McCoy does not stop to think, only panics for an escape from the enclosed room. When he flees through a door, finds himself standing at the right-angle corner of a corridor, he drops to his knees—nauseous, violated, and exceedingly glad to be alone. After collecting himself, Leonard decides that crawling on all fours might be the only way to get away from this place. His legs are numb with shock.

"Doctor?"

His ears almost superimpose "McCoy" and for a wild second Leonard is certain that it followed him, wants to drag him down into the Abyss like a prize.

Then Spock says more carefully "Leonard?" and the man knows he is safe.

"Spock. God."

"If you require assistance..."

"No, no. I'm okay. Here. On the floor." He tries to smile and fails.

The Vulcan stares at him, no doubt contemplating if the doctor has lost his mind. At least, Leonard wouldn't blame Spock if that were the case.

"Need a hand, Commander?"

Leonard freezes and Spock looks beyond McCoy and replies, "Not at this time, Ensign."

McCoy can only stare, face bloodless, as Landers strolls over to Spock, and convincingly chirps "Yes, Sir" before smiling down at the horrified doctor. "Thanks, Doctor McCoy. I promise to be on time for my appointment," Paul Landers assures him.

Spock watches as the ensign walks to the far end of the corridor and vanishes behind the turbolift's closing doors.

Leonard is on his feet by that time with one hand firmly clamped onto the Vulcan's shoulder. Spock says, "You might have informed me if an urgent matter required your attention." That has to be Spock's way of saying, _You could have at least had the decency to spare me the wait and the worry._

He swallows once, latches onto an immediate solution and blurts out, "Read my mind."

Spock goes absolutely still. "If you jest..."

"I'm not. Do it. You can see my memories, can't you?"

Spock places a suitable distance between them and Leonard is sorry for the abrupt end to their physical connection. "I decline."

"Damn it, Spock, there's something you need to see!"

"The mind is delicate, Leonard. I would not—"

"Screw delicacy!" he says fiercely, adrenaline muting how ill he feels. "I know I'm broken up here!" He jabs at his head with a finger. "This isn't about me, you dimwit, it's about _Jim._"

Those eyes darken. "Explain."

"That's just it," Leonard says, the anger gone as quickly as it came. "I can't explain. I—am not allowed to talk about it but you will be able to see what I need you to—for both our sakes."

Suddenly, Spock is there to prop him up when he wobbles out of the blue. McCoy uses the opportunity of Spock touching him to ask quietly, "_Please. It's important. You know I wouldn't dream of asking if it weren't._"

That face is grave, the Vulcan's countenance tense. Leonard almost accepts that his friend will turn him down when Spock finally says softly, "I will agree because you ask this of me. However, it is necessary to propose a condition."

Oh God. Not another _one_.

"What is it, Spock?"

"The mind meld must be overseen by an experienced party. I do not wish to harm you, Leonard, unintentional or otherwise."

He almost asks "Who?" but realizes "Selek."

"Yes."

"A'right," says Leonard McCoy. "I can live with that."


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

"Relax your mind," Selek advises.

Leonard grimaces. "If you're telling me to stop thinking, I seriously doubt that I can, knowing the hobgoblin's gonna poke around in my brain."

"You may withdraw up to the moment that Spock initiates the mental contact," Selek assures him.

Spock, on the other hand, doesn't seem too keen on mind-melding with a jumpy participant. He tells Leonard, "Doctor, you must be certain that this is what you wish; otherwise, it would be illogical to proceed."

Not to mention a forced and probably permanently damaging mind-whammy on McCoy. Leonard sighs. "Look, my nerves are what they are. Can we just get on with this?"

The Vulcan and the doctor settle onto the floor opposite of each other. Selek gracefully folds into a cross-legged position directly within an arm's length of both. _At least one of us is relaxed,_ Leonard thinks wryly. He takes a deep breath of his own, to steady himself. _This is for Jim. To save Jim._

Studying the blank-faced First Officer, Leonard feels a calm rise and envelope him.

Yes, this is for Jim—and he is working with Spock towards that common goal. They both want their friend back.

He nods to the Vulcan watching him with almost midnight eyes.

Fingertips lightly rest against his skin as Spock positions his hands on either side of Leonard's face. McCoy closes his eyes, only half-listening to the words of the rite. There is a soft weight in his head as Spock pushes lightly, unobtrusively against a mental barrier, as Selek had explained. The man thinks, rather out-of-the-blue, _fascinating_.

_Indeed. Doctor, do you acquiescence to my presence in your memory banks?_

_Leonard_ drifts one of his thoughts almost absently. _This is intimate enough that you ought to call me Leonard._

_Very well. You must grant me access, Leonard._

_How?_

The push is now more of a caress. _Choose a memory you desire to share._

Leonard, without knowing why, sees Joanna in his mind's eye, hears a muted word that might be his name over the shrill cry of a newborn.

He finds himself standing in a hospital room cradling a child.

_His child._

There are other sounds filtering in, flitting images of a woman on a bed, nurses and visitors bustling around the man and babe in activity. Yet, it all seems still and sweet; nothing matters except the squalling little girl in his hands.

A sudden presence at his back drives instinct to the forefront and Leonard pulls the child against his chest protectively. Then Spock, in standard science blues, steps into McCoy's range of vision.

The Vulcan is not looking at Leonard. He stares at the child, red, naked and crying.

"My daughter," Leonard says, wondering why there is a Vulcan overseeing the birth of Joanna McCoy.

Time is impossibly stretched as Spock lifts his gaze from Joanna to Leonard, speaks slowly as if he is puzzled. "Leonard, this is private moment."

He understands and rejects Spock's uncertainty simultaneously. "Joyful moments are to be shared and I can't think of a happier time in my life."

Spock replies, "Then I am honored."

With a smile, McCoy murmurs in a soothing Southern tone thickened by emotion to his Joanna. "There now, darlin'. Don't cry. You're just fine, you're gonna be fine..."

He wants to linger here but knows that he cannot. Painfully and with reverence, he lays his child onto the bed, kisses the crown of her head once, and steps back. "It is just a memory?" _I won't be leaving her alone?_

"It is only what you have experienced in the past." Spock stands by an open door. Beyond that door is, quite literally, nothing.

"We must move on," Spock tells him. "Focus on the memory you need."

Leonard walks to the doorway, pausing to shut his eyes. _So strange,_ he realizes, _to have a body when there should be none._

Spock is close; McCoy feels him, patient and waiting.

The man pushes down his trepidation and thinks _dark eyes_. Without warning, the words come back to him _Get away from me—_

"Do not be afraid." _(Do not resist.)_

He opens his eyes, not even aware of having stepped through that doorway, to the sight of Ensign Paul Landers with a cruel smile. Paul—no, the creature—looms tall and Leonard realizes with a lurch of his stomach that he is looking _up_.

They are in the memory.

His mouth opens and words tumble out unbidden. "You've said that before, you bastard—" He can't stop himself, playing a role already defined whether he wants to or not.

The memory plays itself out, Leonard's body stupidly trying to escape and the creature preventing him. He says Spock's name and the creature replies, "The Vulcan Spock is of no worry to me."

Then it turns in another direction (_not right, why is this not right?_), addressing someone else, "And little use, both _Spocks_." Then it focuses on McCoy again with all the proper words, punctuating that the man has little choice but to accept an unpleasant fate.

This sea dragon is as tangible and _raw_ and cruel inside McCoy's head as in person.

And real—too real, like it is living within Leonard.

"—if you do not meet my needs—"

_Stop it_ he can't say. _Something's wrong!_

When the sea dragon leans into him, crooning of the "bitter and sweet" of McCoy's destiny (_mine_ is a whisper), he feels how badly it wants him. He also knows that to say _yes_ is the only path—

A pair of arms envelop him from behind, attempt to drag him from the creature's hold and the gleaming, fathomless eyes. It ignores the backwards jerk of Leonard's body, its mouth shaping his name. _McCoy_.

Leonard's mouth shapes "Yes" in response, but an inexplicable, strong call of "_Leonard_" reaches him in a double echo. The strength of the arms increases and successfully removes him from the seductive pull of the creature.

Leonard stares ahead, only half-aware that someone holds him close and carries him away. He continues to watch the sea dragon. It grins. _Soon, McCoy._

The memory disperses and the spell shatters like glass.

McCoy sags where he is cradled and croaks "Spock?" He is gently turned around.

"_Spock, I'm sorry,_" he whispers.

Spock's face is grave—and not quite solid. It shifts, a second layer peeking from beneath—an older version with wrinkles around the eyes and sharp hollows under the cheekbones. Leonard marvels. Before he can touch that face, it changes back into something firmer, more Spock.

He asks Spock, "What just happened?"

"The memory was not pure. It was overlaid with another's will."

He tries to deny the idea but finds that he cannot. "I... don't understand."

"Leonard, we must retreat. There is danger here."

There's _danger_ in his head?

Fuck. "Okay," he agrees quickly. "How do we separate—"

Blackness rushes in like a tidal wave and he doesn't catch Spock's parting words.

* * *

"Do not fear, young one, the doctor is well," a low voice says. "Ah, and also lucid. Leonard?"

Leonard McCoy mutters "Lucid, my ass" and opens his eyes. His head is pillowed in Spock's lap. The younger Vulcan stares down at him, a tiny crease between his heavy brows. McCoy complains, "I feel like you did a river-dance on my skull."

"I do not understand this term 'river-dance,'" Spock replies.

"I'm fairly positive that there's a pretty Irish lady on this ship who knows how. Remind me ask her to show you some time." He sits up and groans. "Where's that damn medi-kit?"

Selek hands him a fully loaded hypospray without a word. Leonard depresses it into the side of his neck and sighs. Not the best patch-up job, but the medication cuts the pain into manageable chunks.

Deciding that he doesn't like the silence and that the Vulcans are likely to wallow in it, McCoy voices his concern. "I'm guessing that thing wasn't my imagination going haywire."

"No." It is Selek who answers. "The being who has taken Jim has also established a hold in your mind."

_Jesus fucking Christ._ Can things possibly get any worse?

The Vulcan is still talking. "At this time, it is not powerful enough to override your control of your body but I fear that, should you experience another encounter, the hold will strengthen to the extent that neither Spock nor I will be able to help you."

"Then we've got a serious problem on our hands."

"Affirmative. Doctor—" There is a steely quality to Spock's voice that Leonard rarely hears. "—you cannot undertake this 'deal.' To do so would be detrimental to your person."

"We're Starfleet officers, Spock. Jumping into the line of fire is part of the job."

"As Acting Captain—"

"Don't go that route with me!" Leonard warns sharply.

Selek interrupts them both. "To argue is fruitless. The facts are unchanged: Leonard requires the cure for xenopolycythemia and Jim is likely to remain captive until such time. Spock, you comprehend the repercussions if we shift our attention from the search for the Fabrini."

"Affirmative."

"Then I ask that you give priority to the battle we presently face than that which shall proceed it."

Leonard watches as Spock tilts his head and says, "I will accept your wisdom in this matter."

"Thank you, Spock."

Leonard once again finds himself comparing the two Vulcans, startled at their similarities. "There's something funny going on here... and I don't mean the whole shit-fest we're wading through."

Selek returns his look steadily and explains after a brief pause, "I am Spock, son of Sarek. In another universe you, Leonard McCoy, were my friend."

He latches onto the only piece of that drop-kick statement that makes sense. "_Were_? Are you saying I'm dead... in this other universe?" Fuck, _universe_. If Selek isn't a crazy-ass Vulcan, then Leonard's going to kill Jim.

Save Jim first and then kill him flatter than dead.

"Yes," is the simple answer. "You lived a long and prosperous life."

Leonard finds no reason to distrust the open honesty of those surprisingly human eyes.

He brings a hand up to his forehead. _Human_ eyes.

His voice is weak. "I need to sit down."

"Doctor, you are seated," Spock reminds him.

"Then I need to stand!" he snaps. "Give me a minute." Leonard does just that, stands up and walks away. He ignores Selek's low murmur to Spock.

Damn it. Why is Leonard McCoy always the last to know?

A better question is: Why didn't Jim tell him? It's not like the idea would have been a far stretch from the chaos of Nero's attack. The bastard could have said, "Hey, Bones, I met super-old Spock from a parallel universe today."

Leonard would have smacked the kid upside his empty head.

Okay. So maybe McCoy understands why Jim skipped that tiny detail, but that doesn't make him any less unhappy.

He sighs and continues to massage his temples, finally turning back to the two quiet Vulcans.

"A'right, Spock and Spock, if either of you knows me as well as you think you do then you won't be shocked that I'm pissed."

Oh how he hates it when Spock raises that damnable eyebrow, like McCoy is a clown doing hand-stands and acting the fool. Now there are _two_ eyebrows, equally damnable and annoying as hell. He wonders if Old Spock (_what an appropriate name_, thinks Leonard wryly) annoyed the other Leonard McCoy as much.

Old Spock seems to be a hell of a lot wiser than _his_ Spock. "Might I request that, since I have shared a truth with you, you will share a truth also?"

"I'll try."

"Is Jim unharmed?"

So, the hobgoblin is the same in any universe—a loyal, loving friend to the great Captain James T. Kirk. Somehow, Leonard isn't sorry at all to have the notion reaffirmed. In fact, it soothes him in a way that he cannot explain.

"Not really," he says. "It's hard to put into words." The doctor grimaces. "The creature said it had the ability to separate the soul from the body. I doubt that qualifies as unharmed. Jim—what there was of him—was, I don't know how to describe it, a _shadow_ of what he should be." He adds quietly, "I'm afraid that there won't be much left if we don't hurry."

Heavy silence meets his statement.

Then the First Officer rises from the floor, unresponsive to Leonard's hesitant "Spock?" McCoy watches as the outer door slides back and the Vulcan walks through it and disappears into the ship. The room feels bereft thereafter, like the quiet mourning in the wake of loss.

Old Spock lingers, though he does not speak to Leonard. Eventually McCoy whispers, "I'd rather be alone too." Instead of protesting, the Vulcan slips his hands into the sleeves of his robe and does as the doctor asks.

Leonard spends the next hour pondering why he hurts so much and yet feels no physical pain.

* * *

Chekov is bright-eyed and muttering to himself in Russian as he works over his console. Next to him, Sulu unfortunately suffers from lack of sleep due the agitated state of his mind—not knowing _what is going on_ and _where they are headed_. Pavel plots coordinates per Mr. Spock's instructions and Sulu keeps the ship from veering off-course. That is the general extent of the information to which he is privy.

Everyone knows that Mr. Spock is working against Starfleet Command's orders. This isn't the first time that the Enterprise has disobeyed a direct order or found a way to circumvent an Admiral's demand. Most of the crewmen are not shocked to find themselves warping through space with an entirely different agenda than the mission roster they should abide by.

Of course, this crew is even more determined that they don't want any other captain than their own Jim Kirk. If Spock's plan involves finding and restoring Kirk and salvaging the balance of the ship, then each officer will follow the Vulcan to the end of the universe and back.

Therein lies the problem.

The crew of the Enterprise is working on a basic trust of their Vulcan First Officer and now Acting Captain. That trust will wane in time if Mr. Spock continues to keep silent counsel and let the crew work blind. Sulu is almost positive that Doctor McCoy and the Vulcan guest are privy to Spock's mission, but that will not do nothing to ease others' minds and assuage their fears that Kirk shall never return to the Enterprise.

A ship without a true captain is likely to sink.

Spock is a good leader and most certainly a logical one. But he is not James Kirk and they all know it.

"Sulu. Sulu!"

Hikaru Sulu is pulled from his thoughts. He turns at the navigator's urgency.

"Where were you?" asks the young Russian. Then quickly, "Nevermind. Look at this!"

He leans over in his chair and peers at the star-chart. "What is it?"

"I do not know! But when I try to change the settings—" Chekov inputs a series of commands, and the screen refreshes itself. They both watch as the map slowly tracks back its original position, which is far from the current location of the ship.

"It is strange," says Chekov. "It will go nowhere else."

"Where is that?" mutters Sulu.

His friend shrugs. "The computer diagnostics returns okay." Pavel looks slightly wide-eyed. "It could be a signal if—if someone wanted us to go there."

"Pavel, I seriously doubt—"

"But what if it is the Keptin!" Chekov leans over to whisper furiously.

He takes one last, grim look at the screen. "We shouldn't assume anything. Let Mr. Spock take a look."

Pavel visibly deflates and nods. "Yes, I will call the Commander."

Sulu thinks about offering his friend comfort but realizes that there is none that will suffice—for any of them.

Not until Jim is back and the Enterprise is under Kirk's command once again.


	4. Part Four

**Part Three was posted yesterday. Be sure that you've read it first!**

**

* * *

**

Part Four

Leonard's memory heals best after a good night's rest, which makes sense to the doctor because stress does little to aid in recovery. Suffice to say, a good night's rest comes along very rare these days, and any morning in which McCoy wakes up feeling relaxed is one in which guilt also immediately sets in.

This morning, in particular, he finds himself content to lie in the darkness of his bedroom and drowse. Scenes play through his head like a film, building upon each other. He remembers planning a quiet evening on Jim's birthday the second year into their mission, desperate to reach the man in pain beneath a stilted smile and forced cheer. Spock had aided McCoy, and much to Jim's surprise and gratefulness, they filled up that night with companionable conversation, high-quality Saurian brandy, and a long chess game between the Kirk and Spock that McCoy rolled his eyes at but was secretly pleased to watch. It had been the beginning, he knows, of a strong friendship between the three of them.

Leonard opens his eyes and thinks _I'm an ass._

The guilt increases two-fold.

_No wonder the hobgoblin wants to help me_, he realizes. On some level, McCoy had known that Spock wasn't merely trying to preserve the ship's Chief Medical Officer. Hadn't the Vulcan exuded patience, comforted Leonard like an anchor when the man felt completely lost and surrounded by strangers? Spock has his heart in the right place—and that is by the side of a friend in need.

Leonard can rationalize that he shouldn't chastise himself for a condition that isn't his fault. He can tell himself at the start of every day that _soon_ the holes in his memory will go away, but the truth is that Leonard simply tired of waiting for it to happen. He has a responsibility not just to this ship, to provide her with a hale and stable CMO, but to those he has called _friend_ in the past. They deserve Leonard McCoy back, that other man who remembers how to draw the line between friendship and professionalism because _he can be both_.

These days, Leonard is only Doctor McCoy and not Leonard because he feels uncomfortable and vulnerable as such.

If the creature has the power to insinuate itself into a mind, to _live_ in a memory, then it can restore Leonard's.

Right?

_Bad idea, bad idea,_ he chants, covering his face with his hands.

This is not the first time that Leonard has considered who might have the means to help him. Spock had suggested an "alternative" in the past to aid the amnesiac doctor, is capable of performing a mind-meld and perhaps discovering where those missing bits and pieces are hidden, then coaxing them back into place. Spock is the safer, _smarter_ choice.

Now they know that the sea dragon is attempting plant itself in Leonard's mind, preparing for take-over of his destiny, no doubt.

Spock, for all his mental and physical Vulcan strength, would be at risk and open to attack if he tried to help Leonard.

_Both_ Spocks.

That leaves the option of continuing to wait or...

He mutters "Goddamn it!" and sits up.

Desperation never leads a man anywhere pleasant. In Leonard's case, it pushes him toward the computer console across the room. Settling at the desk, Leonard calls up the medical logs of four security officers. He opens one.

_Ensign Paul Landers - admitted unconscious... cause unknown... unresponsive to stimuli... full recovery._

The report goes on to detail M'Benga's treatments, McCoy's notes added later, and at the end has a copy of the signed medical release for return to duty.

Leonard moves on to the next record, then the last two. They are all victims of the creature. McCoy knows that it already wears one of their faces. Can it be any of them?

There are so many questions and too few answers.

Does Jim now have company in the Abyss? Or has Landers been completely assimilated?

McCoy shuts off the terminal. _Find them and you will find it._

Because he is in a hurry and not due for several hours to Sickbay, McCoy was the ill-timing of missing a high-priority communication from Cmd. Spock.

* * *

"It is impossible," states the Acting Captain flatly as he faces his counterpart in the Ready Room.

"It is unlikely, Spock, but not impossible."

"Then logic dictates that it is also a trap."

"Indeed," agrees the other Vulcan. "The lead is both a gift and a snare for Leonard."

"Yet we must go," Spock replies succinctly and with gravity.

There are few words that the elder can voice which will assuage their collective fear for what is to come. They seek the Fabrini and, as they both suspect, the location of the asteroid ship has "landed in their laps." Spock is reminded too sharply of his own Leonard McCoy, who had a fondness for such colloquiums.

This alternative version of himself, changed by harsh and unforgiving circumstances of this universe, had called Spock to the Bridge. Upon entering the Bridge and receiving many curious looks, he had greeted each crew member in turn, much to their surprise. Pavel Chekov, so young, did not protest when Spock requested his seat to observe the phenomenon at the navigation panel. "Fascinating," had been his murmur and the word had subsequently startled Sulu at the next console. But, unfortunately, that fascination was also mixed with apprehension.

The map insistently lingers on a particular section of space that cannot be coincidence; the charted area falls within suitable range of the projected course of the ship _Yonada_. Someone aids the Enterprise in its quest for the Fabrini. There is, logically as the Acting Captain stated, only one who would have the capacity to do so.

Leonard McCoy will have his cure, and the being, manipulating the situation to its own end, will have Leonard McCoy in return.

The Spock of this universe strides to the door. "I must return to Bridge and reset our course."

"Yes." He calls, "Spock."

The other halts, facing away but listening nonetheless.

"You should consider initiating a meeting with the principal officers of this ship." He adds, "If your camaraderie with these individuals follows the experience of my own, their loyalty and advice are equally trustworthy and, perhaps, necessary for a favorable outcome."

"I will, as you request, consider that possibility."

Spock, the Vulcan also called Selek, remains hopeful that the possibility shall come to pass.

_

* * *

_

Damn it, where are you?

Leonard scours the breakfast crowd of the mess hall, does not see any of his queries, and goes down to the recreational section of the ship. No lone or suspicious-looking security officers.

_Where the fuck are you!_

He looks down at the information on his PADD. Right. Check personal quarters next.

The ensign who opens the door and finds Doctor McCoy does not hide his surprise. He, in fact, blurts out, "Oh Gods! I knew I shouldn't take slept with that-"

"Nevermind that, man," interrupts the impatient doctor. "I'm not here for you. Do you room with Lieutenant Quan?"

"Yes, Sir, but he's not here, Sir."

"Mmm," mumbles the doctor. "Will maybe you can answer a question for me. I—" Leonard decides it's better to lie than say _need to know if he's really your roomie and not a soul-sucking monster_. "—am following up with Quan after his visit in the med bay."

The ensign nods. "How can I help?"

"Has your roommate's behavior seemed altered in any way since that time?"

The blinking ensign looks like he has to think hard on his answer. "Yes—and no. I mean, he's been a bit slower than usual but still the same old ball-busting Quan. I guess he hasn't gone to Sickbay for his headaches?" It's a question rather a statement.

"No. So you tell Quan that if he thinks martyrdom is better than a simple prescription for pain medication, then there's a club solely for his type of people. _They're called idiots._"

"Yes, Sir!" snaps the young man.

Leonard moves onto the next listed room. He hasn't any luckier there either, except to learn that Ensign Jase also has headaches with the tenacity of a battle cruiser. He tells the man to get his sick ass to Sickbay for treatment. By then, crewmen are shooting him strange looks, no doubt wondering why the Chief Medical Officer is prowling the lower decks and making house calls. Some of them, he suspects, lock their doors or run in the other direction at the sight of him.

When the start of his shift is close, McCoy has to abandon his search. What he doesn't expect is to find, upon entering the medical bay, is the creature waiting for him in one of the examination rooms.

It smiles, amused, with a face that isn't Paul Landers' and says, "Doctor, I am aware that the date of our appointment has not yet arrived. However, I believe that _you_ require a... preliminary examination. Am I not correct?"

As a reply, Leonard turns around and closes the door of the small room for privacy.


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

Leonard crosses his arms. "I was looking for you," he states flatly.

The creature smiles, idly perched on the examination table as if they really are doctor and patient.

"Your thoughts of me are powerful, McCoy, and easy to understand."

"Really." He raises an eyebrow. "Can you tell what I'm thinking about you right now?"

It tilts its head. "You project ill intentions, yet we both know you would not harm me, could you avoid doing so."

This monster doesn't realize how very close Leonard is to revising his code of honor to incorporate an exception for bastards that eat the souls of his friends in order to steal their destinies. _A huge fucking exception._

"We've danced around the shit long enough. You know what I want. The question is—can you give it to me?"

"Why?" it asks as if honestly curious.

McCoy repeats incredulously, "Why!" His laugh is bitter. "Are you saying that I won't be tastier if my mind is intact?"

"It matters not."

His brows come down. "You don't need my memories at all? How are you supposed to pass for Leonard McCoy if you don't know anything about my life?"

Its silence is surprising.

Leonard stops to consider what he knows, and a realization occurs to him. "You can't, can you?"

It remains silent, peering at him through eyes now much too dark in the human face that it wears like a mask.

He clarifies, giving weight to the idea, "You can't… digest the memories of your prey." _Think of who this the creature has been, how people talked about the Captain's strange behavior before he went missing._ "Or personality—nothing that defines a person."

No wonder it doesn't give a crap about whether or not Leonard has holes in his memory.

"Well, it's safe to say that this conversation is done." He reaches for the door as he talks. "You'd better get the Hell out of here before I do give you an examination—a very invasive, permanently damaging one."

"I can help," it says solicitously as it slides off of the table and closer to McCoy. "McCoy will not enjoy his memories long, but if McCoy wishes for them… I will help."

"So now you want to make me happy." That idea is akin to trying to swallowing something disgusting and sour. "Do you realize how damn ridiculous you sound?"

"Does McCoy not want to remember?" is the croon.

He flinches back instinctively when the creature reaches for him, hand splayed and seeking to touch.

_Shit_, he thinks. _I do. I want to remember. I want _me _back._

It is his mouth that says "Yes" rather desperately.

It is the sea dragon which replies, "Here is a gift, then."

The moment that their skin makes contact, a strangled sound is pulled from deep within McCoy. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he knows nothing but darkness.

* * *

"_Leonard? Len!"_

His face stings and his vision is blurry. "Chris?"

Christine sounds relieved. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Uh. None?"

"Great!" An arm helps McCoy sit up. "How do you feel? Nauseous? Disoriented?"

Oh yes, that's definitely his head nurse. Leonard blinks until he can see straight. Then he completes an internal checklist. No numbness, pain in the back of his head, probably from his faint… _Wait._

Leonard asks, "Damn, did I faint? What happened?"

Chapel is already muttering over tricorder readings. "It's possible your blood pressure dropped. Do you remember what you were doing in here?"

Here happens to be one of the medical bay's small examination rooms. He groans and stands up, wobbling on his legs for a moment before feeling steady. "Was I seeing a patient?" Why doesn't he know? Leonard frowns and looks in all the obvious places for a discarded or dropped PADD.

"Christine, I swear my mind must be—" He stops.

"Leonard?"

McCoy spins around to stare at her. "Ask me something!" he says rather breathlessly.

The look Chapel gives him can only be mildly described as strange. "Something," she says with a hint of _are you insane?_

"No," he half-grins as his excitement grows. "Ask me about that time Pavel tried Scotty's homemade moonshine!"

"Why would I ask you what you already—" She gasps. "Oh Len!" Then, "Stay right here, I mean it—don't move!"

Leonard plops down onto the vacant examination table. "Well, I'll be," he remarks more in astonishment that anything else. After cautiously examining the back of his head for injury, and upon finding none, his elation grows tenfold. His mind is already speeding ahead, checking facts and recalling details.

He's on the starship Enterprise, has been for more than a couple of years; he knows with satisfaction what he is doing here—trying to keep this accident-prone, trouble-attracting crew in one piece. Especially a certain toddler-like, rambunctious—

_Jim._

With the thought of Captain and friend immediately follows the thought of a First Officer named Spock. Hobgoblin and more. A nosy, logic-wielding, surprisingly generous soul with whom McCoy has not bantered in almost—

He presses the heel of his head to his forehead.

And the rest of his memories rear to the forefront of his mind.

Spock is Acting Captain because—

The memories are almost tangible, almost glowing.

_"How do we find the cure for xenopolycythemia?" Jim, frighteningly intent on forcing the creature to talk._

_Him trying to warn Kirk and Spock to "Stay there! STAY THERE!" A climb down a rock face that halts tremulously with "What are you going to do?" and ends with his near death._

But McCoy is very much alive. Here, with Spock.

_"I shall endeavor to assist you, Leonard."_

The Vulcan has tried repeatedly to do just that. So has—Selek.

Leonard drops his head into his hands.

Both Vulcans, both Spocks, are doing their damnedest to help McCoy. Yet there is one thing that weighs against them all. Leonard realizes, now with a pile of history to back up his feelings, that he knows exactly what is wrong with everything they've thought or attempted or planned for.

Jim is gone.

Having all the connections in place now is almost painful; that absence is keen in way that McCoy couldn't comprehend with memory loss, despite knowing all about James Kirk. The emotion, the attachment, had been missing.

The doctor sags, and this is how Nurse Chapel and Doctor M'Benga find him. Geoff runs tests, quizzes his memory, and finally says, "I can't explain how or why is happened now, Leonard, but we both know that the mind has been always been a mystery and a marvel." Then Geoff really looks at him, in the way that Christine is as she stands to the side and bites her bottom lip. He asks, "Are you alright?"

"Would you be—" replies McCoy, "—if you finally remembered how_ badly_ you've screwed up, in fucking _technicolor?_"

"I never understand most of your idioms, but I can guess that you are find some of your memories to be… regretful?"

He makes a sound between a snort and a brave attempt to hide the shakiness of his voice. "That's the understatement of the century, Geoff."

"What can we do to help?" asks Christine.

"Find a way to bring Jim back—all of him."

They don't quite understand what he is saying.

Christine glances at M'Benga. "Do we know where the Captain is?" Geoff looks uncertain.

"You may not—but I do," answers Leonard. "And I think it's about time I broke my silence, for all our sakes as well as Jim's."

He is stopped with a light hand on his forearm. Christine wants to know, "If you knew, why didn't you tell us before?"

"I'm not sure" is his honest reply. "Maybe I… didn't know how, or why I should." At the look on her face, he adds, "But that was a man I never want to be again."

Doctor Leonard McCoy orders, "Call together a primary team you trust to handle the damn toughest case we've ever had in our bay. Then bring 'em to the Briefing Room in an hour."

"Where are you going?" Geoff calls.

"To round up some pointy-eared hobgoblins and Jim's best and brightest bridge crew."

* * *

Spock is not expecting Leonard to simply show up on the Bridge and start disclosing their carefully constructed,_ secretive_ plans. Although, McCoy has never been one to fall inside the lines of Spock's guide for predicable behavior.

_That_, Leonard decides,_ is why Spock underestimates the good Doctor McCoy._

The moment he steps onto the Bridge, Spock blinks from the Captain's chair and begins to remark, "Doctor McCoy, I deduce that you have received—"

Leonard ignores him. "Listen up, y'all!" he bellows.

Sulu almost falls out of his chair, and Chekov's eyes grow round. Uhura takes out her earpiece to listen. The other people on the Bridge either gape, stare, or both.

"Here are the facts: Jim's knee-deep in trouble—"

"Doctor." Spock stands.

"—and we can't save him until we get to where we're heading—" Leonard talks faster because the Vulcan looks fit enough to nerve-pinch him into silence.

He gestures at the screen of stars, causing the others to glance at it stupidly. "Out there is—Spock, _damn it_, stay away, I'm done keeping my mouth shut!—Out there's a ship with a cure for xenopolycythemia. We need it to save Jim."

"The Keptin is ill?" asks Chekov, horrified.

McCoy hastily edges around Sulu's console. Spock looks aggravated in a stoic sort of way.

"Nope. Cure's for me. Once I'm cured, I can save Jimmy."

When Spock says, with ferocity, "Doctor McCoy, _you will keep your silence!_" Leonard scuttles back to the lift, yelling as he goes. "All those who want to save Captain Kirk, briefing in thirty minutes!" Then he pauses at the open lift door and tells Spock succinctly, "You're an idiot of a Vulcan if you think we don't need all the help we can get."

Leonard is rather satisfied at the startled look in Spock's eyes just before the lift takes him down into the ship.

_

* * *

One last stop._ McCoy buzzes for entrance at a door.

Selek answers and greets him face-to-face. "Leonard. Have you spoken with my counterpart?"

Leonard rocks back on his heels. "I mighta missed that memo. Give it to me in as few words as possible. Then I've got something to tell _you_."

"We know the location of the asteroid ship _Yonada_."

He stares. "How?"

"It matters not," replies Selek.

Leonard opens his mouth, then closes it again in uncertainty. He shakes off a feeling of déjà-vu. _Must be the memory circuits reorienting themselves after a long hiatus._

"Well that's good news. 'Cause I need you to join me in the Briefing Room to discuss a plan of attack with everybody."

Selek's eyebrows rise. "Indeed. Might I inquire if you intend to divulge the particulars of our mission?"

"You're damned straight, I will!" Leonard adds, "And just so you know, Spock isn't a happy camper. I expect him to try and shut the meeting down before I can say 'hell no.'"

Selek (_Old Spock_ Leonard wants to call him but finds it rather disrespectful to say to such a wrinkled wise face) looks at McCoy for some seconds. Then he comments, "Spock may surprise you."

_I hope so, _he prays.

Leonard re-enters the corridor with Selek beside him. One Vulcan on his side and one to go.

Now there's the small matter of explaining his wild plan. They can't defeat the creature as ordinary prey, not even with two strong Vulcan telepaths, but there is chance that they can, simply put, feed it until it pops. For that, of course, McCoy is going to need some volunteers.

_Jim, you are one lucky son of a bitch. _

Leonard walks into the Briefing Room, Selek on his heels, to find it noisy with conversations and filled with intent, hard and hopeful faces.

_We need you as much as you need us._

Spock steps to the front of the gathering to confront McCoy.

"Spock?" Leonard searches that face for a hint of what the Vulcan may be thinking.

The First Officer says, "You may proceed, Doctor" and moves aside to allow McCoy room to speak.


	6. Part Six

**Part Five was posted yesterday; please read that first if you have not. Any lines from the episode "For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky" will be italicized. Enjoy!**

**

* * *

Part Six**

"But we thought—"

"That's dire news indeed, lad."

"The Captain said—"

"I knew that wasn't Kirk!"

"It's still _here?_"

The doctor waits until there is a lull in the varied reactions. "As far as we call tell, Jim's been gone since before I woke up from my coma."

The Chief Engineer nods knowingly. "Knew there was somethin' wrong with 'im. The Capt'n's got more manners than that ill fellow."

"Then he—the creature disappeared but really hasn't left the ship at all?" Uhura looks furious that no one thought to mention this before. Leonard doesn't blame her for her anger. He'd be spitting nails had Jim tried to keep him in the dark of a serious situation; in the past, he _has_ spit nails and ranted at Kirk.

"Right again." McCoy sighs heavily and jams a hand through his hair. "Like I said on the Bridge, Jim's in a shit-load of trouble this time."

"You also said that you could save him," Sulu adds.

"That's right. I can—at least, I think it will let Jim go if I offer to trade places. It's said as much to that effect."

Silence, rather than an outburst of emotion.

_Thank God_, Leonard thinks. These people understand what he is saying.

Chekov and Sulu exchange a long look. "So we find a way to get the Keptin _and _the Doctor back," Pavel confirms.

McCoy leans against the briefing room table. "I'm hoping it'll be a given that Jim is free once the deal is done."

"An assumption we cannot make, given this being's history of deception," inputs Spock.

"I doubt we can make _any_ assumptions, Spock," Leonard tells the Vulcan. "I'd say hope and prayer is the best we have to go on."

Why does Spock look to Selek at that?

Of course, then Scotty wants to know, "Does someone want to explain why the Enterprise is carryin' two Vulcans?"

Selek introduces himself without saying "I am Spock number two."

Leonard is grateful for one less complication. If Jim kept Old Spock's secret—as well as the First Officer—then it must be duly important that no one goes around announcing the existence of a paradoxical doppelganger living in their universe.

"Selek is the most knowledgeable about the Fabrini."

At the questioning looks on several faces, Leonard motions to Selek, who steps in and recites a long and lovely account from another universe. The gist of it is that the remnants of the Fabrini are obliviously traveling through space on a ship that looks like an asteroid; in their computer banks is the medical knowledge to cure xenopolycythemia.

Uhura asks quietly, "How long would you have, Leonard, if we didn't find the cure?"

McCoy shares a look with Christine. The medical techs behind her have sympathy in their eyes.

"Two years, if I'm lucky. The disease is largely dormant—barring minor symptoms—until the last stage; then the patient's decline is rapid. I wouldn't be... cognizant towards the end."

McCoy breaks the depressing silence with a wave of his hand. "But that's a moot point. The creature wouldn't drag us into uncharted space when it's really anxious to have a cured Leonard McCoy for dinner."

"There is nothing humorous about your demise, Doctor," Spock interrupts, his voice heavy.

Leonard understands how Spock feels. "Would you rather I sat in a corner and cried?"

Spock says nothing. Some people fidget with discomfort but Leonard is simply tired of fielding awkward moments. He breathes deeply and announces, "I have an idea. Can't promise it'll work but we ought to try."

Selek raises an eyebrow. "Thank you for confirming my suspicion, Leonard."

Spock looks first at McCoy and then at his older self. He is clearly trying to determine how Selek can read McCoy better than he can. Leonard chuckles to himself.

"This may sound insane, but we've seen—and done—our fair share of crazy."

The officers in the room nod; some laugh quietly. Were Jim here, the Captain would have that wide grin which, in general, translates to _Tiberius actually stands for Crazy, Bones. _

"This sucker is very powerful with few weaknesses. So maybe we give it what it wants—"

There is a low murmur and shifting of bodies.

"—only in excess."

Sulu plants his hands on the table and asks, "What exactly _does _it want?"

Leonard tries his best to answer that question, despite that he is uncertain himself. "It talks about destinies, but I think that's just a word to this thing. It sees someone it wants to be and becomes that person." _Lord knows why. _Leonard suspects that the creature can see a man's future, or something equally unsettling. Why else would it have latched onto Jim as a young child, if it didn't know what great things James Kirk was going to do? Then consider the fact that it waited until Captain Kirk was at the height of his career to strike...

"Identity theft," Mr. Scott summarizes.

"Essentially, except it's got a scary alternative to killing its prey."

Sulu crosses his arms, looking thoughtful. "But wouldn't that be simpler? To kill, I mean."

"For you or me, sure. Who knows. Maybe it does what it does because the process is necessary." _Hell, I wouldn't hesitate to believe that it pulls souls from bodies for kicks. _"Sorry, Sulu. I don't have a fucking clue how this creature works."

"I am inclined to believe that this creature does function based on our logical standards for morality." Selek is standing in the room, but McCoy has the feeling that the Vulcan is far away in memory. "The Cap-a close comrade of mine once encountered a being that, in fact, omnipotent in its abilities; yet it was young and prone to mischief, without a real sense of how its actions affected mortals."

Leonard leans forward with interest. "You make it sound like it was a god."

"It was," answers Selek serenely. "Its power was almost beyond comprehension."

Chekov asks what they are all thinking. "What happened to your friend?"

The Vulcan is smiling with his eyes again. "He handled the situation as he was wont to do—implementing a challenge to save those that he loved—" Selek looks at McCoy. "—and forcing the being to see itself for what it was, a child."

McCoy sighs. "I doubt I can psycho-analyze our enemy into giving up and going away."

"No," agrees the older Vulcan. "But you may, as a popular Terran colloquialism states, 'trick it at its own game.'"

"I will help," Pavel says firmly.

Others nod or offer the same words. A tension in Leonard loosens.

_There is hope after all._

* * *

It takes a month to cross paths with the asteroid ship _Yonada_. In that time, the crew's morale slowly bolsters as the Enterprise comes closer to her destination. Courtesy of Uhura and Sulu, the rumor is covertly fed into the gossip mills that Doctor McCoy is sick and the Enterprise has a mission to find a cure. It's all true, of course, but also carefully edited of the remainder of their rather desperate and foolhardy plan. The rumor suffices to infuse the crew with a purpose, even as they wait for something to happen and their Captain to return.

Then the Bridge comms McCoy late into an evening shift, to which Leonard replies, "Yes, Uhura, I'm still awake. I'm working—what the Hell else would I be doing?"

"Mr. Spock is on his way to see you."

Leonard lifts an eyebrow. "And I need the warning why? Please tell me that overgrown elf isn't having hot flashes or any equally disturbing symptoms of a Vulcan condition I ain't allowed to know about."

Nyota's laugh twinkles through the speakers of his computer. "Where do you come up with your ideas, Len?"

If she could see him, she'd wonder at the color rising in his face. "Selek and I have been sharing some tales." It pleases Leonard to know that he's now ahead of Jim in this game of Secret Lives of Vulcans From an Alternate Universe. McCoy is certainly looking forward to the day he can say, if a bit childishly, "I know something you don't know, Jim-boy!"

McCoy has wrangled a promise from Old Spock to answer any and all future questions that the doctor is sure to have about the First Officer. When Old Spock had originally replied to the request, "You might address your inquiries to our father," Leonard immediately shot back, "And how well did that play out for _your_ Leonard McCoy?" The Vulcan graciously conceded to McCoy's wisdom.

Leonard almost wants to keep him aboard the Enterprise on a permanent basis; Old Spock would be an invaluable source of knowledge for the Enterprise's journey through darkness and danger. Alas, those are thoughts for another, more fortuitous time (one they might never see, if current circumstances don't change). He also supposes that the idea, while nice and comforting, would be detrimental to how this universe functions.

His thoughts are interrupted.

The Chief Medical Officer pretends to be astonished at the Vulcan visitor stepping through the threshold of his office. "What can I do for you, Mr. Spock?"

Spock fixes an intense look on him that makes the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise. "I wish to inform you that we shall approach the ship _Yonada_ in approximately five point thirteen hours."

There is a strange tingling in Leonard's chest. He clears his throat. "That's good. Will—I mean,_ who_—" _Damn it, collect yourself, man!_ he berates himself. "Have you determined the team that will beam down to the ship?"

"I have," replies the Vulcan gravely. "This is a matter which I also wish to discuss with you." In an odd little pause, Spock simply looks at him. "Leonard, will you... feel comfortable if you are part of the team?"

He's surprised. "Why wouldn't I?" Didn't he do so already, in another place and time? Then it occurs to Leonard that Spock is trying to gauge the doctor's sensitivity. "Aw, Spock, I'm touched—I really am. But it's only proper that I come down with you. We are fiddling with Old Spock's version of events enough as it is."

Spock blinks. "I would question your choice of title for my counterpart but I suspect any complaint would be ignored."

McCoy laughs. "Humor me. Your other version does." A weight lifts from his shoulders. Leonard stands and walks over to the serious-faced Vulcan. "Thank you," he says. "Without you, we wouldn't have gotten nearly this far."

"You need not thank me, Doctor."

"But I am. So long as I'm breathin', I won't forget this." Leonard smiles. "You're a good man, Spock, and a good friend."

He allows the Vulcan the dignity of pretending to look elsewhere while a fleeting, soft emotion passes across Spock's face.

* * *

McCoy juggles his phaser in nervousness before he firmly decides to hook it back onto his belt and leave it there.

The High Priestess eyes him in a strange way that makes the man jumpy. When she tells Leonard in an imperial but coaxing voice, "I am Natira," Leonard only nods and replies, "McCoy, ma'am."

He feels rather badly for these ship dwellers because they not only haven't a clue that _Yonada_ isn't a planet, but they don't seem inclined to ask any questions either. _Like ignorant sheep_, he thinks. Their leader, however, is interested enough to demand answers of _Yonada_'s visitors.

If Old Spock were here, he could prompt this conversation in the correct direction. As it stands, Spock simply blurts out, "We seek the Oracle."

Even Sulu, their best Jim-replacement, is staring at the back of the Vuclan's head and boggling at his audacity.

Natira, of course, must be surprised that off-worlders are so knowledgeable of her culture. She inclines her head, calling off the fierce looking guards surrounding their little group, and replies, "_Welcome to the world of Yonada._ Your request has been heard and shall be relayed to the Oracle. If the Oracle is agreeable, you shall have your audience."

They are lead into the ship to sit and wait.

With his hands between his knees, Leonard reminds Spock, "This Oracle isn't very nice, you know. I am positive I don't want to be zapped. My brain cells have suffered plenty of trauma already."

"I will speak with the Oracle alone."

He disagrees. "I don't like that idea either."

"Doctor," Spock glances at him before returning to adjusting his tricorder. "You are free to state your opinion, but I regret to inform you that it will make little difference. _I will speak with the Oracle alone_."

So Captain Spock is stretching his authority muscles. Leonard sighs. "Then what in the world good can I do by sittin' here?"

"Perhaps you might... engender an acquaintance with the High Priestess."

He stares. "Are you saying you want me to_ flirt _with that woman? _Are you outta your Vulcan mind?" _

The damn hobgoblin is laughing at him, he knows it! Leonard McCoy doesn't take kindly to joking at his expense. He is about to give the Vulcan a few choice, colorful words when a door opens and Natira is standing before them, sharp-eyed but serene.

"The Oracle will grant an audience."

Leonard stands but Spock steps forward into the custody of the guards. The Acting Captain tells the High Priestess, "Your hospitality is most appreciated and would be a welcome continuation for my colleagues who remain here in my absence."

Natira replies graciously, "We are honored by your presence on our world. If you do not seek harm against my people, then you shall not be harmed in return." The woman waves a hand and two men and one woman enter the room bearing trays of food and drink. Natira tells McCoy, Sulu, and two security officers to enjoy refreshments while they wait for the return of their leader. Spock and the High Priestess leave, then, and McCoy cannot shake the uncomfortable gnawing of his gut, which has little to do with hungry and everything to do with anxiety for a certain stubborn Vulcan.

He is keeping on eye on the security officers who eat the snacks provided by the Fabrini with gusto. Sulu is focused on the door, one hand on the phaser at his hip.

McCoy turns the medical tricorder in his hands. If Spock doesn't hurry up...

"Doctor!"

Leonard is on his feet in an instant as two guards come through the door dragging an unconscious Spock and unceremoniously dumping him onto the floor. McCoy, heart pounding in his chest, kneels and gently turns the Vulcan over. He snaps at Sulu, who has his phaser aimed on the Fabrini, "Don't! Let's talk with 'em before you go startin' a fight!"

Natira enters, face grim. Leonard ignores everyone but his patient.

The medical readings confirm that Spock is merely unconscious and not damaged. He directs the two security officers to place the Vulcan on the raised futon. Then McCoy whirls on the High Priestess.

"What's the matter with you! Unless my friend directly attacked you and yours, I doubt you can justify hurting him!"

"It was not I," replies the woman, chin high. "The Oracle made a demonstration of its displeasure. Your _leader_—" Natira says the word with a hint of disgust. "—made a demand that the Oracle cannot accommodate and, upon refusal, attempted to touch the sacred stones of the temple."

Of course Spock would. That's how the other Kirk and Spock found the ship's manual and gained access to the controls of the ship. Leonard bites his tongue, unwilling to pull the blinders off these people just yet. He asks instead, "Do you always condone such ill treatment? How can a god, _any god_, punish a man so easily for his free will?"

Her lips thin. "The ways of my people are foreign to you and should not be judged so readily." She indicates Spock. "When your leader is well, you will leave _Yonada_. Do not return. This is the command of the Oracle."

McCoy does the only thing that makes him feel better. He curses at the woman's retreating back.

The High Priestess is unaware that they have no intentions of simply vacating the premises and letting the ship go on its merry way. No, McCoy will face down the Oracle himself—Southern temper and all—to get at the controls. Jim, Leonard, and a colony named _Daran V_ depend on the success of this mission.

He sits by the prone Spock's side, musing on how he is going to find a way into the Oracle Room.

A quiet rustle snaps his attention back to the present. An old man appears, Leonard and the others startled to see him against a backdrop of brightly colored curtains. As he whispers of his doubts, Leonard's heart clenches in sympathy.

The man mourns, "_Things are not as they teach us, for the world is hollow and I have touched the sky._" It is then that Leonard has an opportunity to observe the callousness of the Oracle, that vicious computer which suppresses the Fabrini's growth through pain and fear. The poor fellow writhes in agony until he dies beneath Leonard's hands, the doctor useless to help.

So the people of _Yonada _do question—and they die for it, never knowing that there is more hope in the universe awaiting them than what can be contained in one small world.

Leonard breathes deeply and tells Sulu and the security officers, "Make a racket. We've got work to do."


	7. Part Seven

**Part Seven**

It turns out that Spock didn't have a bad idea after all. McCoy is a charmer when he wants to be, the Southern gentleman in him generally looked kindly upon by most females in the galaxy. He waits until the guards come in to see why the off-worlders are hollering and making such loud noises that are unbecoming of guests—particularly unwanted, barely tolerated guests such as the men from space.

Isn't it convenient that Sulu knocks McCoy flat on his back the moment that the grim-faced Fabrini enter the room?

The High Priestess is not far behind, which tells Leonard that either she stays in close quarters (which he finds unlikely) or the Oracle Room where she prays and receives her instructions for the people is nearby. He hopes that the latter is true; his plan works better with that assumption.

"What is the meaning of this… behavior?" Natira looks like she wants to ask why they are acting like wild men but cannot find a suitable word to describe the atrocity of their actions.

As McCoy tries to crawl away from the enraged Sulu, one of the security officers drags him to his feet by the collar of his shirt and shakes him like a dog. "Traitor!" cries the young man.

Leonard cringes and tries to explain, "But we're in the wrong!"

The Fabrini watch with interest as Leonard is shoved backwards into the other security officer and Sulu steps in close to block McCoy's escape from another direction. Just as Sulu is about to land a blow, fist raised, Natira tells her guards to "Stop this foolishness."

The doctor and friend in McCoy winces as his comrades are easily subdued with the blunt ends of the staffs the guards carry. He is thankful that none of the three take their game too far and challenge the Fabrini, as the officers really would if they didn't have a goal in mind.

McCoy says gratefully "Thank you" to the High Priestess. She steps up to him and touches the swelling along his jaw.

"Why do your men abuse you?" she asks, dropping her hand and looking at him intently.

"'Cause they're damn fools, that's why!" he says harshly. "We shouldn't have come down here…"

Sulu picks up his cue. "That isn't your call, McCoy! Mr. Spock—"

"Well look at your captain now," McCoy retorts, gesturing at the oblivious Vulcan. "See what happens when you mess where you shouldn't—"

"Mr. Spock will have your head once he hears about this! Then it'll be the end of your career in the 'Fleet," spits the pilot. Leonard didn't know Sulu could look that cruelly pleased. He'll have to remember to ask Hikaru if he's ever considered ditching Starfleet to become an actor.

Natira says slowly, "There is ill will between you. You must be separated until your leader awakens; to spill blood on the world of _Yonada_ is a grave offense. McCoy, a guard will escort you—"

"No!"

Her eyes narrow. "You wish to keep company with men who would kill you?"

"I'm a doctor," Leonard tells her. "A healer. I cannot leave Spock with these idiots." He glares at Sulu and the two men. "They don't know the first thing about caring for the sick."

The High Priestess considers the unconscious Vulcan for a moment. "It is said that your leader will not be pleased with you, yet you would stay to care for him." There is something unreadable in Natira's eyes. "You are a strange man, McCoy. You may remain as healer for this… _Spock_." She gestures to her guards who nod in response and drag Sulu and the others from the room.

_Score one for Team Enterprise_, Leonard thinks.

He sighs and makes a show of wincing (_damn, Sulu really does have a solid punch_) as he settles onto a raised futon opposite of Spock.

A female Fabrini appears some minutes later and Natira takes a tray from her. The girl bows and leaves them alone. Leonard holds very still as she sits next to him and applies a strong smelling cloth to the side of his face. "This will ease your pain," she explains.

He mutters his thanks, already wondering what sort of salve the cloth is soaked with—because, damn, if his pain isn't gone! If this treatment is in the medical banks as well, Leonard is going feel like a young, excitable doctor again, presented with new techniques to explore and medical papers to write.

Then McCoy realizes that Natira's heavily painted eyes are watching him. He thanks her and purposefully places his hand over hers with a smile. That startles her and the woman pulls her hand away. Leonard is forced to hold the poultice to his jaw.

She rises gracefully and turns her back to him. Nevertheless, her voice rings clear. "From your earlier words, I would not have thought you capable of understanding our laws. I see now that you were distressed by the state of your leader. This is forgivable." Natira looks at him then. "It is also… pleasing to me."

Leonard is racking up the points now and feels terribly bad about his deception.

"I won't say that I agree with your Oracle's punishments—but I do realize we are on_ your_ world, taking advantage of your good will for… well, for things that aren't ours to have."

"What things?" asks the High Priestess sharply.

"We want to know what your Oracle knows."

She inclines her head. "Indeed, the Oracle's wisdom is boundless, but only I am chosen by the Oracle to pass on its knowledge. It seeks to protect my people. You—" she says somewhat gently, "—are not one of us. Your request cannot be granted."

"I'm afraid that my people aren't as passive as yours, High Priestess."

"Natira," she interrupts.

He reaches out for her hand, a silent request. The woman allows his touch. Leonard drawls slowly, sweetly, "Natira," and places a kiss on the back of her hand.

Then McCoy finishes his warning. "Spock will try to take the knowledge by force." That is actually a fair bit of the truth. Leonard sighs internally.

Natira's face is serious as she tells him, "Then it will be necessary to protect ourselves. Do you accept this?"

He asks plaintively, "Please don't hurt them. Perhaps if I can persuade the others that the Oracle's information is useless, we can be on our way without anyone coming to harm. Don't you think that's best?"

"Yes. In this matter, I agree, McCoy."

"Leonard."

She stares at him.

His grin is genuine. "If I can use your name, Natira, then you can use mine. I am Leonard McCoy. Call me Leonard. I'd like that."

"Leonard." Natira tests his name carefully. Then she seems to realize that her hand is still in his and reluctantly lets go of him.

Oh Lord. He's going to the pits of intergalactic Hell for this charade. _Think of the cure__, McCoy_, he tells himself. _Think of the millions of people that can be saved by what you can accomplish here. _

_Think of Jim._

"Natira," he says carefully, "I want to help. Won't you let me?"

"What proof must you have… to convince your leader?"

"Let me ask a question of the Oracle." At her look, he assures, "Just one question. I will record the Oracle's answer with this device." He holds up his tricorder.

She touches it lightly, in awe. "I have not seen an object such as this. You say that it… records? What does this mean?"

These people are so innocent—it's almost ironic that they live inside such an intricate piece of technology.

"Everything that the Oracle says will be stored here—" He taps the hard metal shell of his tricorder. "—and Spock will be able to know the answer without going to the altar himself."

"I understand." She nods. "Very well. I will take you to the Oracle, Leonard."

He drops the poultice to the side. "Wonderful." Upon standing, he crooks his arm. "May I escort you, Natira?"

This time she does not hesitate. "Yes. We must hurry, for I fear that your leader's condition shall not last much longer."

_Oh, yeah._ Spock's going to be thrilled to find himself all alone and the other men trussed up by the Fabrini for misbehavior. Most of all, Spock will be a touch annoyed to learn that McCoy has concocted and implemented a Plan B.

Vulcans are very wary of Plan B's.

* * *

So. This is the great Oracle Room. He watches as Natira falls to her knees on a center platform and bows her head. The room lightens as the ship's sensors are activated by Natira's actions.

The idea of worshipping the Creators is so farcical that Leonard has to bite his tongue. Old Spock explained the beliefs of the Fabrini and what their ancestors hoped to accomplish by controlling their descendents. It is idyllic—but it is also cruel.

A man weds a woman chosen by the Oracle; the only exception is the High Priestess, who may choose her mate. This rule's 'higher purpose' equates to little more than genetic selection to keep the race thriving. Then factor in that they are kept mentally stagnant—their minds dulled by the threat of agony—to prevent questions that may, in time, jeopardize the mission of _Yonada_. Simply put, a long-dead council of beings labeled themselves gods and re-invented their race of people to believe that truth for generations upon generations—and with no guarantee that _Yonada_ would ever reach its new world.

The repercussions of _Yonada_'s failure seem horrific to a man like McCoy. What would happen to these people should they fall prey to an invasion by Klingons patrolling through space? Or worse, by a band of slave traders, who would pick and pull at _Yonada_'s defenses like vultures until the ship splits apart and the Fabrini are forfeit?

McCoy grimaces and gets down on the floor behind the High Priestess, his kneecaps protesting the full impact of his weight. He keeps his head high, unwilling to supplicate further to a computer driven by a selfish ideal.

"Speak," says the Oracle.

The High Priestess says, "It is I, Natira."

"Yes, Natira?"

"I am not alone—I have with me one of the strangers. He wishes to ask a question of you."

There is a silence. McCoy wonders how long it takes this massive thing to run its algorithms and determine a true or false to that request.

"Proceed."

At least he is not going to be zapped right away. The man clears his throat. "I am McCoy. I mean no harm to _Yonada_." It seems appropriate to state that beforehand. "My question is this…"

He takes a deep breath to steel himself. In his mind's eye is a Vulcan with fiercely frowning eyebrows and a harsh reprimand ready for voicing.

Spock is seriously going to be pissed.

"Can I access your computer banks for a quick second?" He tacks on hurriedly, "I'm dying and in urgent need of a cure."

Cue the roll of thunder of an angry computer god. The Oracle booms, "Your words are forbidden!"

McCoy is in the perfect position to lean over to Natira and say, as the Oracle calls for his immediate death, "Sorry about this, sweetheart. Up you go." He pulls her from the platform, locking her arms so that she can't claw his face—the woman looks like she is considering it—and hauls her bodily over to the main panel of the Oracle.

The Oracle seems confused, because Natira is a loyal subject and it can't zap McCoy without zapping her too. McCoy prays to whatever real deity seems to like his plan and shouts, "I'm really need that cure, you stupid machine."

The Oracle rages "Blasphemy!" and "You must be destroyed!" so McCoy simply slaps the large, furiously blinking light of the Oracle and it cuts off like the premature end to a recording.

The would-be Oracle, now a simple disabled mechanical covering, slides back to reveal the entry to the ship's controls. Spock, bless his logic-loving heart, went for the ship's manual, uncertain if this universe's _Yonada _would be wired similarly to the _Yonada_ of Old Spock's universe. Leonard, on the other hand, believes in leaps of faith and his Grandmammy's saying 'time's too short to fiddle about.'

He releases his hold on Natira. She cries, "What have you done!"

McCoy tells her, "I don't have time to explain everything, but this—" The doctor indicates the opening. "—is where all the answers to the questions you've wanted to ask are hidden."

She looks from him to the small doorway. "It cannot be."

He sighs. "It is. Now if you'll excuse me, I—"

The doors to the Oracle Room slide open without warning. Spock, with Sulu and the two security officers behind him, takes three steps inside the room, sees Leonard, and pauses. The phaser in his hand lowers at a snail's pace, as if the Acting Captain doesn't quite believe the lack of torture, danger, or dying.

"Doctor…"

McCoy lifts an eyebrow. "Hiya, Spock. I hope you brought that big brain you're always bragging about. We've got a hell of a lot of data to collect."

With those words, Leonard climbs into the main control room of the ship _Yonada_. He then turns around and waits rather triumphantly for Spock to follow.

The Vulcan does not disappoint. Spock stares at the bright, multi-colored lights of the ship's computer before slowly facing Doctor McCoy.

Leonard speaks first. "Think carefully about your next words, Mr. Spock. They'd better be along the lines of 'You are a brave, fearless, and exemplary Human, Leonard McCoy.'"

Spock pulls out his tricorder and says, as he calmly adjusts the device, "I suspect, were I to indulge your ego as you wish, Doctor, the result would be… 'hard to live with.'"

He laughs. "Who taught you that phrase, Spock? Jim?"

"Negative." Spock flicks a glance at McCoy. "It was my counterpart who explained the sentiment when I inquired after his use of the colloquialism."

Leonard pretends not to notice the wide-eyed Natira peering through the gap in the Oracle Room. Her face is a mixture of wonder and horror. McCoy's only consolation for destroying the world as she knew it is that she will no longer care for her people in ignorance.

Then Spock reclaims his attention with the announcement "The cure for xenopolycythemia is here."

He closes his eyes in relief. "Thank you, God."

"No," corrects his friend solemnly. "The 'thank you' belongs solely to you, Doctor."

Finally daring to take that first step through the opening, the High Priestess wants to know, "You say there is knowledge here. Is it… of the Creators?"

"Yes," replies McCoy, opening his eyes. "It is the key to a truth that you, Natira, need to know." He swallows because this is supposed to be Jim's job. "If you promise to listen, I will tell you that truth."

She considers him. Then, with a graveness that Leonard can respect, "I will listen, Leonard McCoy."

He leaves Spock to the task of copying the medical banks of the Fabrini and gently takes Natira's hand, squeezes it.

"A long, long time ago, there was a race called the Fabrini and they lived near a star..."


	8. Part Eight

**Part Eight**

When Leonard McCoy fits the last piece into the puzzle of the Fabrini's cure and sees the completed picture—now viable for this century's medical advances and ready to be produced into a serum—he feels a thrilling sense of accomplishment; but that passes quickly in light of the knowledge that this particular cure is also his end. With that in mind, the doctor backtracks through his work, once more outlining the steps of the procedure that will neutralize the disease known as xenopolycythemia, and comes to an easy decision. Some minutes later, report in hand, he comms Spock on the Bridge to say, "It's ready."

"Acknowledged."

Thus a series of events are set into motion that lead to the salvation of one and the destruction of another.

Leonard heads to the science labs and turns over his modified version of the Fabrini's work. Then he settles into his quarters to wait, savoring the bourbon's trail of fire down his throat and in the pit of his stomach. A feeling of being watched stays with McCoy even when he is alone.

The word _Soon_ has haunted him for weeks, like a lingering presence in the back of his mind. Upon waking on the fifth day since Spock's team began the synthesis of the cure for xenopolycythemia,_ Soon_ is gone. In its stead is a firm, pleased _Now_.

He accepts the inevitable by rising from his bed to meet the day.

* * *

Old Spock stands next to McCoy's Spock, and the doctor is once again struck by their similarities. They both watch him with measured, equally unreadable expressions.

Spock asks, "Doctor, are you prepared?"

_Can a man ever be prepared for a situation like this?_ He replies, "Yeah."

M'Benga steps forward and administers the first of three injections of the cure.

After a moment, Leonard lifts his eyebrow and says, "Well, this is rather anti-climatic" to the group of people circling his biobed.

The Acting Captain only remarks, "You must remain here for the duration of your treatments. I will return after Beta shift."

McCoy calls to Spock's retreating back, "I ain't dead yet, you green-blooded hobgoblin—and I'm still of a mind and an authority to kick your Vulcan—!"

The doors close on Leonard's last words.

Old Spock raises an eyebrow, inclines his head to Leonard's staff in a gesture that probably means _good luck_. He, too, leaves but without McCoy's parting fanfare.

Leonard grunts, fidgets in discomfort and mutters at the blankets twisted around his legs. Christine had insisted that he set a proper example for the rest of the bed-bound patients in the bay—and that included wearing a confounded gown.

_I can survive a few shots_, he tells himself with certainty and a snort that has Chapel rolling her eyes.

Several hours later, that assumption has to be gravely reconsidered when the man alternates between being miserably nauseous and puking bile, on top of a fever that comes and goes. McCoy is simply grateful that someone is around to pat his hand and wipe the sweat from his face.

Spock, that sneaky bastard, sits patiently by his bedside. At some point, Leonard is sure that Chapel makes a light suggestion that the Vulcan take a break from self-imposed McCoy-duty. Spock does not speak a word, merely pretends that he is deaf to Christine's orders and blind to her exasperated stare as his nimble fingers continue to type on a PADD.

Leonard eventually croaks in a more lucid moment, "Let him be, Chris. Vulcans are stubborner than mules who ain't had breakfast."

"More stubborn," corrects the Vulcan idly. Then, "Describe this creature—the mule."

Christine laughs along with Leonard, and Spock blinks at them both.

The side-effects worsen once the second injection is introduced into his system after a precise interval of thirty-six hours. Leonard knows that sedating a patient is risky when a drug is untested for common chemical reactions with baseline medication stocked in the medical bay. If the interaction goes badly, McCoy is liable to wind up 'dearly departed,' his body in cryo-stasis and not doing Jim a damn bit of good. So he curses and hallucinates and generally has a grand ole time babbling about a universe with two Spocks and how_ evil_ that is for a poor man like McCoy.

Sometimes he has a vision of Old Spock, eyes smiling at him; at other moments, it is Young Spock who is watching him intently. McCoy tries to tell Young Spock not to worry but the words are difficult to squeeze out of his dry throat, so Leonard settles for giggling at the absurdity of the name "Young Spock!" instead. That Spock has a look of consternation and replies "Illogical. I will have Nurse Chapel return to check your fever immediately" which makes the whole thing funnier.

Another thirty-six hours down, and he tries to fight M'Benga who holds the third hypospray. Spock easily pins Leonard's shoulders to the bed, and McCoy half-laughs, half-pleads to his friend, "It won't work, you bastard! It won't work!"

"Leonard, calm yourself."

He bites his bottom lip bloody as the hypospray hisses against his skin. McCoy is subsequently released and slides dejectedly into the bed covers. He flings an arm over his eyes to block out the light of the room.

_Shit shit shit_. _I can't believe I'll have to do this again_.

The last day and a half is so bad that Leonard rolls out of the bed when the staff is preoccupied, ignoring the shrieking alarms, and has his hand wrapped around a bottle of pain killers for the deep ache in his bones by the time someone catches him. Christine smacks his fingers and pries the medication from him, calling Leonard a few choice names that would make him proud in any other situation.

McCoy is dragged back to bed and threatened with restraints. When he replies tiredly, "You might as well do it," Chapel's face switches from mad to almost heartbroken in an instant. He and she both know protocol for his behavior—and the potential danger if Leonard loses what little sense he has left before the worst is over. He keeps his eyes closed as cuffs are gently locked around his wrists, then secured to the sides of the bed. Spock, who returns to watch over him for the fifth time in a short stretch of hours, says nothing at his pitiful condition. The silence would be sweet, Leonard decides, if his eyeballs didn't burn and his organs weren't complaining so viciously.

_Goddamn it, kid. I'm leaving instructions for Spock to put you on lock-down until you're of retirement age. Stupid, block-headed, reckless…_

Listing scathing adjectives for one James T. Kirk soothes his mind until he falls into sleep.

* * *

"Leonard."

Leonard's mouth garbles the words "fuck, leave me alone" because it is useless straight from a heavy nap. His brain, on the other hand, projects a slew of sensations—most of them along the lines of _no pain, where's the pain? _and _water, idiot, NOW_.

Leonard reaches for a cup of water only to realize that his hand won't move.

His eyes snap open.

The restraints are still on.

Selek—Old Spock—deftly releases one of his wrists. Leonard is lifted like a child and given water to drink. He tries not to be embarrassed, but that's a damn difficult thing to do when shackled, helpless and weak from days of agony.

The elder Vulcan eases him back into a prone position but does not re-attach the restraint. Instead, surprisingly, Old Spock takes the other cuff off.

Leonard rubs at his wrists to dispel the feeling of being chained rather than to ease an injury. "Thanks."

"We believe that you are entering the recovery phase, Doctor McCoy," the Vulcan says. "Are you experiencing any discomfort at this time?"

"Back aches, but that's from lying down so long." He lets his breath out in a long sigh. "You think I'm cured then."

There is a brief silence. "The symptoms of your illness are undetectable if they exist," replies Selek.

Leonard doesn't meet the steady stare.

"So we move on with the plan," he adds softly. "I expect it's only a matter of time before that thing comes looking for me."

"Spock has determined the tactical positions for those who would guard you."

"No." McCoy shakes his head and looks at the Vulcan then. "The last thing we want is to complicate this mess. Leave me here—no guards, no paranoid-looking officers."

"Though my first reaction would be to disagree with your request, I understand your reasoning. I will speak with my counterpart."

McCoy's smile is tired. "He'll pitch a fit—"

There goes that eyebrow but it lacks indignation and is arched in amusement instead.

"—so I trust you'll appeal to his Vulcan logic."

"Indeed, I shall attempt to do so." Selek adds quietly, "It is often… difficult to abide by logic when risking a friend's well-being."

"Why, _Spock_," Leonard says with a hint of a deep Southern drawl, "you're almost insinuatin' you can fall prey to a Human emotion."

"Emotion cannot be classified as Human or otherwise, Doctor. It exists in us all; to deny that existence is illogical." The Vulcan's voice lowers subtly (a half-human, half-Vulcan's equivalent of leaning in to whisper conspiratorially). Selek says, "However, its degree—and display in temperament—is debatable."

Leonard grins. "Let me guess. I'm in the _extremely emotional and annoying_ range."

"You are as you always have been and always shall be, Leonard McCoy," he is told serenely.

The man relaxes into the bed. "Good to know," he replies. "At least we can count on something being constant."

Selek says nothing; but then again, the Vulcan need not speak for Leonard to understand that the agreement is mutual.

* * *

The second time he is awoken, the room is hushed and the lights muted for the comfort of the patients. Leonard's mind hears _McCoy_ and panics.

Face pressed into the sheet, he keeps his eyes shut like a child afraid of the dark and what monsters it might hold.

There are monsters, he knows.

And they say his name just like that…

"_McCoy._"

He purposefully releases his fistful of blanket and says, "It's too early. I'm still healin'."

There is a breath too close to the back of his neck.

"McCoy smells better."

The hysteria in his laughter isn't at all feigned. "'Better' is not how most people would describe my smell right now. Been sick and sweating for five days."

At the light pressure against his back, McCoy practically falls out of his bed in his haste to get away. He spins around, heart in his throat, to find a familiar outline of a man on the other side of his bed.

"How'd you get in here?" he asks numbly.

The amusement in that voice rings clear. "No one protects you. Is this not what you asked for, McCoy?" Then the creature steps into the red light cast by the instruments over Leonard's bed. It's Jim's face smiling at him.

McCoy thinks his nausea is making a fierce return. He swallows hard. "I'm not ready."

"You are cured," it croons in Kirk's voice.

He abandons the bedside to put more distance between them. "I—maybe I changed my mind. Let Jim die."

The silence is heavy. Then, slowly it says, "You lie. Why lie, McCoy?"

A new voice interjects from the shadows behind McCoy, "A lie has purpose."

When a hand brushes against his back briefly, Leonard's body sways with relief. Spock, that plotting, wonderful Vulcan friend of Leonard's, steps up to the man's side as a solid support and commands the lights to engage.

Not-Jim's face is twisted in a deep displeasure at the Vulcan's presence.

"Thanks, Spock," Leonard says in a voice that shakes slightly. "I wasn't sure you'd realize what 'no guards' meant."

"Were your thought process rational, Doctor, I would have accepted your request as stated," answers Spock smoothly.

McCoy shuffles closer to the Vulcan as Kirk eyes him with something akin to ill-intent. "What can I say? This sea dragon of Jim's has ears in all the right places." McCoy whispers, "Glad you came."

"It would have been illogical to do otherwise," Spock says softly.

_Of course_, Leonard thinks.

"This changes nothing," states the creature. "McCoy for Jem-me."

Leonard quickly presses his shoulder to Spock's as a warning to keep silent.

"Actually," he interrupts, "you're gonna get a little more out of the bargain."

That familiar face with the dark eyes of a stranger considers him.

McCoy finishes, "You're gonna get a whole fucking crew."

It bares its teeth. "Yesss. I know of this. Many for the sake of one. Your plan will fail," it tells them both.

Leonard shrugs. "But the opportunity is too good for you to pass up, isn't it, you sick son of a bitch?"

It glides around the side of the bed to stand in front of them, the motion eerie and unsettling from the body of Jim Kirk.

"I am strong—" it says, "—and the Abyss runs deep. You will not be alone; yet you will feel alone for the Abyss is _vast_ and _Nothing_ and will keep you from all company except mine."

Shit, could that be any more terrible of a sales pitch? Leonard laughs, wobbling on his legs, and Spock takes his arm in case his legs plan to collapse. Which they might. Soon. Freshly cured patients are supposed to take long naps in Doctor Leonard McCoy's Guide for the Sick, rather than face down demons.

"Do not be foolish," warns the sea dragon. "Come, McCoy. The bargain is done. I give back Jem-me now."

Spock's hand tightens around his arm as he takes an involuntary step forward. What is his body thinking? But Leonard knows what his mouth is saying—it demands, "Show me Jim first."

The thing with Jim's face tilts its head and smiles. It says, "Jem-me is already here."

Leonard's rage boils to the surface. "Damn it, stop—"

It looks to the left, to the room opposite of the McCoy's. "You may see him."

Leonard's body jerks in that direction, slowly comprehending that it is telling him Jim is here, in Sickbay, _physically_ in Sickbay, but he is detained by the Vulcan who refuses to budge.

"Spock, Spock—Jim is—let go!"

Pulling at a Vulcan is like trying to move stone. Spock stares past McCoy as he answers Leonard's sudden desperation to find Jim. "If you go, Leonard, you will not return."

McCoy stills. For a short moment, there is only the sound of his harsh breaths. Then, "Okay. That's—okay."

Spock's face turns to him. "I am Acting Captain. You will remain here."

"You're Jim's friend," Leonard counters softly, the fight in him quiet but strong.

"I am your friend also."

"Then you'll let me go, because I ask you to. Because you're _my _friend and you _know_ I have to do this."

A trap. Leonard doesn't apologize to Spock because it is too important that Spock understands how serious McCoy is. By the look in the Vulcan's eyes, Spock does understand—and he regrets it. Leonard's arm is released without another word.

McCoy takes one step away, then a second step and pivots. He doesn't look back, barely acknowledges that the enemy is already waiting for him in the next room, standing close to a bedside that holds a pale body.

Leonard sinks onto the edge of the bed, hands ghosting over Jim's face. Pulse—faint. Breathing—shallow. No response to McCoy's soft "Jimmy. Jimmy, can you hear me?"

He looks up. "I don't understand."

"To discard the body breaks the link," it explains. "It was… planned but then I found_ you_."

His hands slide over Jim's chilled skin, denial tightening his chest. "Me…?"

It murmurs like a caress, "McCoy's destiny is better. Always bitter—always sweet. The universes change. McCoy does not."

"And Jim…"

It doesn't need to say anything. The answer is clear enough.

_Bait._

Jim is bait.

"Did you even care about the xenopolycythemia?"

Its answer is slow and serious. "Yes. A flaw—the only flaw. You have fixed it." It turns its head to the doorway and says, "Do not enter."

Leonard doesn't need to turn around to know that Spock is behind him.

"You will not harm the Captain or the doctor." Spock's voice is icy.

"I will break the link," it warns.

"Don't!" McCoy says, resisting the urge to pull Jim's body into a protective hold. "Spock, stay back. Don't—we're so close, so damn close to saving him."

"I will not choose!"

Leonard is shocked by the anger in the Vulcan's voice.

_Spock_, he thinks. Young by Vulcan standards and yet McCoy already knows the kind of person his friend is maturing into. He sees Selek and _he knows_.

"It's alright," he says. "It's alright, Spock, because you don't have to choose. I already did."

The eyes fixed on McCoy are pitch-black, almost bottomless (like the Abyss itself). The creature, wordless, reaches out to McCoy, and he does not hesitate. When their hands touch, the world shrinks to a whirl of triumph and terror that sucks Leonard in.

A voice tells him, _Jem-me is returned as promised._

Somewhere in the distance, as he is pulled farther away, a body comes alive beneath his hands. It is Jim, his Jim, heaving with breath and sudden awareness.

Leonard—_Leonard, is that his name? A fleeting thing, a name_—relaxes and lets go.

_Amusement. He amuses someone. He—_

The amusement quiets, turns into a new thing, first curious, exploratory, then overwhelmingly shocked—and angry.

Leonard's descent jerks, stops inexplicably then, and he feels as if he hangs at a precipice of a terrible and endless void.

A flare of violence thrums down to him.

_What is this!_

_What is what? What is… _A foggy shard of thought clears. _Leonard, that's my name._

_WHAT IS THIS!_

Leonard McCoy, for that is surely who he is, remembers what devious thing he has done. The pieces of his soul, loosely bound together, rattle with glee.

The sea dragon's violence grows like a storm, heavy with betrayal and rage.

Leonard sighs in contentment. His single spear of thought is directed to the other, almost lazily.

_Oops. Didn't I mention…? I botched the cure._

He'd smirk if souls smirked.

_But what's a tiny flaw like xenopolycythemia to a perfectionist like you?_

It howls, this monster, with something close to denied hunger._  
_

Leonard wonders belatedly if the link between the soul and body is like a rubber band; the way he snaps back into his body is painful, not to mention a whole other realm of disorienting and creepy.

It's a pleasure to open his eyes, despite finding himself on his back on a hard floor with a Vulcan in his face, pale as a ghost. Then there is a loud thump next to his head and a croak of "_Ow_."

He wants to laugh. He really does. Yet the sound that comes out of his mouth is a far cry from a laugh.

Leonard turns his head to look at Jim as the idiot fights limp muscles to sit up and say "Bones? Spock?" in a way that Leonard hasn't heard in far too long.

"_Leonard_." Spock speaks sharply and McCoy realizes that the Vulcan has been talking to him.

He squints one eye and manages to reply, "Present."

"I do not understand."

Poor Spock probably doesn't.

"Is it still here?" he asks rather than offering an explanation.

"It is not."

"That's really good."

Jim interrupts. "Bones, are you—are you hurt?"

"Don't bother rolling over here, kid," he replies dryly. "I'm great." Spock is courteous enough to help Leonard sit up so that Jim can see McCoy isn't a lying bastard with a penchant for downplaying his wounds.

Jim stares at them both before finally saying, "Well, I'm not. Someone is stabbing my brain with an ice pick. Repeatedly. And _why _am I naked?"

Leonard thinks that it is definitely Spock's turn to explain. Instead, before he can voice such an opinion, someone says, "It is most pleasing to see you again, Jim" and Leonard drops his head forward with a sigh.

"_Spock?_"

Selek greets Jim Kirk again, possibly for posterity's sake, and their Captain has a difficult time finding words, undoubtedly, to describe his confusion.

Then Selek turns to Spock and McCoy to state in a grave voice, "You must be prepared, Leonard. Deception will drive such a creature to vengeance."

He stares up at Old Spock. "You knew?"

"Affirmative. The Doctor McCoy of my universe underwent exactly seven point twenty-one days in treatment for xenopolycythemia before we were assured of the cure's permanence. The deviation was… notable."

Leonard says quickly, before Jim can forgo a demand for explanations and speed straight into bright, burning anger at his crazy CMO, "Can't blame a man for a last, dying attempt at defiance."

He sinks back against his Vulcan prop. "So who's got a brilliant idea on how to get a sea dragon off a starship?"


	9. Part Nine

**Part Nine**

It is a general consensus that the correct serum to cure xenopolycythemia should not be produced for McCoy until the danger has passed; that is, until the creature, now angry and lying in wait on the starship, is dealt with in one way or another.

Jim votes for obliterating it. No one gainsays the Captain, or feels particularly unhappy about that idea. Even Leonard is beyond the _fair-trial_ stage and firmly in favor of getting rid of the monster. The Enterprise may have her Captain back, but so long as the enemy still lives, everyone is certain that the ship and its crew will never be safe.

Leonard settles on the edge of Jim's biobed and greets his friend. "How's the pain level?"

"Better," answers Kirk without opening his eyes.

McCoy sighs. "I know you're pissed at me, Jim—"

"I'm not pissed," Jim tells him flatly, then opens his eyes. "I want to be angry at you, Bones, but I just... can't." His friend echoes Leonard's sigh. "You did not less than I'd expect of you, despite how much I hate the idea of what it would have cost." With a grimace, the man levers his body into a sitting position.

McCoy lifts the hypospray wrapped in his hand, previously hidden from sight of a prone Kirk. He lightly tilts the patient's head to the side and depresses the pain killers into the exposed neck. Jim does not protest, which tells the doctor how badly he needs relief.

Jim rubs at the injection site and offers McCoy a small smile.

Leonard knows this man too well. "You are pissed, aren't you? At yourself."

Kirk looks sheepish for a moment before his voice hints at an inner turmoil. "You were targeted because of me."

Leonard, fists clenching, stands up and paces away before turning back to stare into the pale face of James T. Kirk. "Are you going to blame yourself for my disease too?"

Jim is taken aback by the bitterness in the doctor's voice. "Bones..."

"No, Jim—just, not again. How many times do I have to preach before you believe my words? _It's not your fault_. Not unless you were holding up a God-damn sign that says _Ready to be terrorized! Evil SOBs stop by!_ The universe loves to send every insane, nasty, or purely crack-headed sadist into our path on a regular basis. So we—you, me, and the whole damn ship—do the best we can to _fucking survive_. You with me so far, Jimmy?"

"Is there a way to convince you to shut up?"

He snorts. "You need to listen to what I've been telling you for years." Sitting down again, he leans in with a softer tone. "You're a good man and a great Captain; but more than that, you're family to me, kid. I know _you_—and I know you wouldn't wish anything bad on this ship or this crew. It just happens."

Jim's eyes glint with emotion but the man manages to joke lightly with "Karma, Bones?"

He takes Jim's hand and squeezes it. "Maybe. Doesn't matter though." He says, holding Kirk's gaze, "You tried to save us. You couldn't have known what that bastard had planned. I won't fault you for what you did, just like you know you can't fuss at me for my choice."

"Spock would, though."

"Spock's still in his learnin' years," quips the doctor. Then more quietly, "He's been afraid, and that makes even a tightly controlled Vulcan act in irrational ways." He releases his grip on Jim's hand. "We were pretty much convinced that we'd never get you back."

"Then why did you make the deal?"

"Desperation? Betting on a margin of hope? I think you know why. I couldn't have chosen otherwise and lived with the knowledge that I didn't fight for you until my last breath."

They share a moment of silent understanding and respect. Then Kirk bats his eyelashes and says, simultaneous laughter and gratitude readable in his body language, "Aw, Bones, you _love_ me!"

Leonard responds as Jim expects, with a roll of his eyes. It is a variation on a familiar banter between them—Kirk's teasing and McCoy's sharp wit; Leonard feels unnaturally giddy that they are both alive and _together_ to pick at one another.

He is happy to play his part. "Be sure to spread the word. Oh wait, that's right." As if by magic, the doctor produces another loaded hypospray and twirls it between his fingers. "If you did... a certain Captain shall mysteriously contract a nasty case of that Deltan flu floating around. I hear the symptoms are vastly unpleasant, Jim-boy—boils and the like." Leonard H. McCoy re-pockets his biological warfare (which is actually another shot of pain medication) and smirks. "Sleep with one eye open, kid. There's a boogey-man hereabouts."

Settling back down, Jim Kirk's reply is much too serious. "I will, Bones."

So shall Leonard.

* * *

There are people waiting for McCoy outside of the medical bay. Sulu steps forward at the sight of the doctor and hails him.

"Sulu," the Chief Medical Officer says shortly. The man nods to Chekov and Scotty standing behind the officer. "What can I do for you?"

Hikaru checks for other possible attentive parties before voicing his question. "Is it true—the Captain's back?"

Something flashes through McCoy's eyes but it is gone too quickly for Sulu to make sense of it.

"Yes."

Pavel slides into the conversation. "You are certain it is the Keptin and not the imposter?"

Doctor McCoy huffs at them. "I think I'd know when I've got a real Kirk in my Sickbay and not a doppelganger. He's the real deal, I promise." The man mumbles something like "—already got the nurses restocking the emergency supplies—kid's going to do something foolish, I know it—"

Then McCoy remembers he isn't alone. "I know you want to see him for yourselves, but let's not cause a stir. We're in a... delicate situation right now."

"Aye, that's an understatement," inputs the Scottish engineer. "We've got a devil loose on the ship."

"But this devil was already here, Mr. Scott," says Chekov. "How is it different now?"

McCoy's voice is as grim as Sulu as has ever heard it (and the young man recalls just about every time the CMO has had to announce a terrifying prognosis for an officer injured by enemy fire or in a hostile fight). "Now this thing has little to lose by going after us—because we took its leverage."

"The Captain," Sulu supplies softly.

The doctor nods. "Spock and—" McCoy almost says something but seems to correct himself. "—Selek want to reconvene for a briefing after the next shift. Can you come?"

"Try and stop us, Doctor," Scotty remarks with a cheeky grin.

Leonard McCoy's shoulders noticeably relax. "That's good. Great, in fact. I need to grab a few things from my quarters and then get back to Jim. He'll be ready for the meeting."

Sulu closes his eyes, feeling an unease melt away (a feeling he thought would never leave him). Their Captain will step in and lead them again—and that alone is enough to ensure a victory in the battle to come.

* * *

He's tired—beyond tired. Leonard calls for the lights to engage in his quarters and rolls his shoulders. He needs his notes from the initial days of orbiting the planet where Jim and Spock were stranded, when the enemy (shit, _enemies,_ he remembers) had first appeared and boarded the ship under the guise of a friend.

His wrist aches in memory and the hairs on the back of his neck rise in response.

_Quit with the jumpiness, McCoy,_ he chastises. His mind will sense the creature in every shadow and in every dark-eyed officer if he lets the fear win. That simply cannot happen because Doctor McCoy must have his wits in place; otherwise, he will make a grave mistake that will end terribly for them all.

He spends the next few minutes digging through the archive of an old PADD to find the outline of events he had jotted down as they occurred. There are, of course, more extensive details when Medical was involved, including official reports, but the side project he had designated (_Find Jim & Spock/Avoid LIZARD-thing_ is its title in bold letters) is merely a series of sporadic notes. After that—his accident and subsequent amnesia—Leonard has only memory to go on... and none of those memories are pleasant.

_Except Spock._

McCoy chuckles.

If McCoy were a lesser man, he would tease his Vulcan friend about taking such good care of him. On the other hand, Spock was a genuinely _wonderful_ friend when Leonard needed someone most. He supposes that he can forgo poking at the Vulcan for displaying a softer side.

That won't preclude Leonard from thinking of it at inappropriate moments and grinning like a loon at the First Officer.

It's comforting to know that there are people in his life who will help him even when a happy outcome seems impossible. And Leonard McCoy would not trade that knowledge for all the Saurian brandy in the galaxy.

As he tucks one or two PADDs into his medical bag, a voice whispers _McCoy is a fool._

Leonard stiffens and half-turns, suddenly terrified of who he will find behind him.

No one is there. Yet...

_For his foolishness and his crime, McCoy will pay._

He flings the bag strap over his shoulder and backs toward the door. "Stay away from me."

_Who will pay the debt first for McCoy?_

"Stay away from my friends!"

The door senses him and beeps softly. Leonard hears the sliding of the door, feels the cold air of the corridor on his back. Unseen eyes are on him, watching, assessing for weakness, and making his skin crawl. He pivots to leap to safety and is shocked to find himself caught up in the arms of a Vulcan.

Spock carefully turns them and sets Leonard into the corridor. The door to McCoy's quarters slides closed, a backdrop for the tilt of Spock's head and the lift of his eyebrows.

"It is unwise to walk this ship alone, Doctor McCoy."

Leonard lets out of a _whoosh_ of air from his lungs. "Yeah. I figured that out."

After a moment of pause, the Vulcan says, "I will escort you to the medical bay."

For once, the man does not argue. "Thanks."

McCoy glances over his shoulder as they walk to the turbolift, adjusting the strap of his bag. There is rage drifting through the hall, an almost full-bodied taste to his senses; alongside the rage is a hint of amusement.

Yes, danger is present—and it wants McCoy to know that it is waiting to hurt him.

**

* * *

Are y'all ready? Two parts left.**


	10. Part Ten

**Part Ten**

Jim allows the slaps on the back and fierce hugs for some minutes until he calls for order in the briefing room. "While I know I'm a sight for sore eyes—"

"More like a sore on the eyes," grumbles his Chief Medical Officer as Kirk is pinned by a critical gaze. "Another round of vitamin shots ought to clear that up, though."

He grins. "Thank you, Bones," which really means _you'll have to catch me first before you can hypo me_. Jim returns his attention to the men and women watching him with relief in their eyes. "We have an intruder aboard. The safety of this crew takes precedence regardless who—or what—we must face. Understand that this creature is extremely dangerous and, more so, skilled at hiding in plain sight. Do not assume the person next to you is exempt, whether he or she is your best friend, your drinking buddy, or your captain." He smiles, despite the seriousness of his tone. "We've been through some tough situations in the past, and this time won't be an exception; but we survived before and we will again."

The tension in the room has long-since faded. In its place is a confidence that Kirk tries to imbue into others. If the leader does not have faith, the battle is lost before it has begun. He wants to give his people every fighting chance, no matter how insignificant it may seem.

Simply put, Jim wants to win, and he wants to be assured that there is one less evil in the galaxy to come after those he cherishes.

The First Officer prompts, "We must determine of a course of action."

"Aye," agrees the Chief Engineer. "What's the game plan, Capt'n?"

Jim leans his weight on the conference table. "I have an idea but I'll need the full support of my staff."

The look Uhura levels on him clearly reads _you're an idiot if you think that you don't have our support._

After a moment, McCoy interjects, "Well, spit it out, kid."

"Bones," he says, turning to the other man. "Believe me when I say that I hate my idea but there is a chance it might work. The creature is focused on you." Even the implication of his words is almost painful for Jim to swallow.

The doctor's face softens in understanding. "So I'm bait." Then Bones adds calmly, "That's fair, Jim."

He isn't quite sure what "that's fair" refers to, but there is no time to pursue it.

"Are you sure?" he asks his friend. _Will you forgive me for risking your life?_

Leonard McCoy nods. "Yeah, I am. Let's get this son of a bitch off of our ship."

Jim starts slowly, outlining what needs to be done—and what they don't need to do. "We know what sets the creature apart from us, lends it more power, so I ask you instead... _what makes it similar?_"

* * *

Spock isn't happy, though Spock isn't unhappy either. _Of course_, contemplates Leonard, _a Vulcan would not admit to such emotion in the first place._

"Don't look so irritable," he says as he prods his partner with his elbow.

Spock turns his head to stare at the man. "I am not irritable."

"Right," agrees McCoy dryly. "Tell me… Why is it that your older self always looks so pleasant and relaxed, yet it's like someone shoved a stick up _your_—"

"Doctor," interrupts the Vulcan. "This conversation is not conducive to our current position."

He glances around his quarters before answering truthfully. "I'm bored. And I'm nervous. I talk when I'm nervous."

Spock has that amused tilt to his eyebrow. "This behavior I delineated within a two-day timeframe after the Enterprise left the Earth's space dock. It is unfortunate that you have yet to learn control over this habit."

He scowls. "You green-blooded bastard. Next time I'll ask for Old Spock instead of your self-righteous ass."

"Let us hope that we do not encounter a 'next time,' Leonard."

That sobers McCoy. He sighs. "Alright, point taken." Then the man fidgets silently for the next thirty seconds before blurting out, "Why can't I just wander like an idiot sheep into a dark corner? That _thing _seems to like it best when I'm alone." He glances at Spock. "Jim's idea is a bit cuckoo—you know that, right?"

"The Captain often employs… unusual methods; however, his rate of success is irrefutable."

He emphasizes his point with a finger stabbing the air. "His rate for ending up in my medical bay after one of his crazy stunts is also irrefutable."

Spock says nothing because, undoubtedly, to deny Leonard's claim would be illogical. _Score for me_, McCoy congratulates. He toys with his glass of water. "Do you think—" Because he can't say what he really wants to, he skews his real question. "—that Kirk can help?"

At least Spock is practical enough to not pretend he doesn't understand McCoy's question. "I do not know." The Vulcan pauses. "But it is my hope that he can."

Watching Spock sit so still, too motionless like he anticipates trouble to bombard them at any second, Leonard feels a keen sympathy for his friend. "You're too hard on yourself, Spock."

Spock merely looks at him.

"I mean it," he says, leaning forward on his elbows. "Sometimes I think you only close out the day once you've determined how well you've met some elusive standard that no one _but you_ would hold you to." He stumbles over his thoughts for a moment. "Trust me, I know what it's like to see only flaws in your work, to… to second-guess yourself. When someone dies on my table, it feels as if I've been gutted. What did I do that cost a man his life? Could I have been faster or smarter or just plain better at my job—?"

"Leonard."

He holds up a hand. "Let me finish, okay?"

Spock's head moves minutely in acceptance.

"What I'm trying to say is that a man often punishes himself more harshly than any justice system could—and just as often, when it's someone like you—someone genuinely dedicated, brilliant, _kind_—self-recrimination is simply pointless." He smiles softly. "I always wanted to tell you that, and well… now's as a good time as any." _In case the plan goes to shit and I don't get to talk to you again._

Spock has that air about him that means the Vulcan wants to respond but is uncertain of what the situation requires. Leonard is about to tell Spock that _it's okay_, no words are necessary, not between friends, when Jim bursts into the room.

"Bones!"

How in the Hell Jim can be up and about after his body has been comatose for a couple of months is beyond Leonard. But when the kid says he'll accomplish something, he damn well proves his point every time.

Jim's eyes do a quick darting motion as Kirk points the phaser in his hand at several shadows along the wall.

"Yes, Jim?"

"Bones—that thing, it's after you!"

Leonard wants to roll his eyes. He really, really does. Except rolling his eyes was expressly forbidden by a knowing and sneaky Kirk. "That so?"

"Come with me! We'll take you to a safe location—the Ready Room. Spock," barks the Captain, "attend Doctor McCoy." An extra phaser is tossed onto the table. "If you see anyone acting suspicious or out-of-character, shoot to kill."

_Hell, don't overdo it, Jimmy. _

Then again, this creature would agree whole-heartedly with the philosophy of "shoot to kill."

"Understood, Captain," answers the First Officer. "If you will, Doctor McCoy, please precede me and remain within a suitable range of my person."

They frog-march out of Leonard's personal quarters, Jim all the while ranting about evil soul-sucking monsters, their evil plans to kidnap and snack on amicable doctors like McCoy, and how the Chief Medical Officer must be protected.

"—don't worry, Bones, I've got your back—" Kirk is saying as he glares at every ensign how looks askance at the trio passing by.

"Keptin!" Chekov skids from around a corner, wide-eyed and babbling.

"What is it, Chekov?" demands Jim.

"It's been spotted, Sir," the young man relays as he immediately straightens and salutes. "It's Sulu, Sir!"

Leonard bites the inside of his cheek.

That's when Hikaru Sulu himself rounds the turn of the corridor with an arm hooked around Nyota's throat to keep her from getting loose. The woman spits and claws his arm. McCoy winces.

"Sulu?" says the Captain with grim surprise, turning his attention to the dangerous-eyed man.

Pavel quickly steps to Jim's side and levels the phaser in his hand at Sulu.

"Sulu," Kirk repeats again. "What… is this?"

The man laughs, then bares his teeth in a way that would look menacing to any untrained eye.

"Give me McCoy," Sulu replies lowly.

Jim shifts on his feet. "No."

"A trade, then." Sulu's arm tightens around Uhura's neck. "A life for a life. What will it be, Captain?"

Jim raises his phaser and aims. Sulu shifts Nyota until she is directly in front of him. Then he sneers.

"Give McCoy to me, or this one—" Nyota makes a sound of rage and says "_Bastard!_" "—won't be worth trading for in another five seconds."

"Jim…" Leonard tries to interrupt, stepping forward. "I'll go with him—"

"No. I'll handle this. Spock, you have your orders."

The Vulcan nods, wraps a hand around Leonard's arm and propels the man in the direction that they were headed.

"But Jim!" cries McCoy over his shoulder. "Jim, damn it, let me help—!"

Sulu, upon seeing that Kirk is willing to sacrifice Uhura for the doctor, snarls and pitches the woman away from him. He breaks into a run. Jim shouts, takes off in pursuit with Chekov on his heels. That is the last Leonard sees of them.

Spock's grip on his arm is actually very light, but McCoy stumbles along like a reluctant puppy. They travel this way for some time, Spock leading and the doctor apparently not given a choice except to follow until they are close to the Bridge. Leonard can make out the Ready Room just some distant away. He jerks, breaking Spock's hold on him, and plants his feet.

"Now wait just a damn minute—"

Spock turns on him, saying something like "Doctor—" which grows sharp and in the next breath transforms into "_Down!_" The Vulcan moves like lightning to push him aside; in that instant, Leonard feels a tingling along his shoulders and knows who stands behind him. He hits the wall with bruising force, Spock's sudden display of strength unaccounted for and unstoppable. There is only a moment between a cry of his own and a glimpse of Spock's face before Leonard watches his friend get batted into the opposite wall like a gnat.

The Vulcan's head cracks resoundingly against the wall and Spock slumps to his knees. McCoy is already crawling across the floor, thinking _Shit, what the Hell are we doing? Fuck, Spock, please be okay…_

A booted foot catches his side, knocking the air from his lungs and flipping the man onto his back.

Not-Spock looks down upon his sprawled figure, lifts an eyebrow and remarks slowly, "Humans are stupid, McCoy. I suggest that we discuss this matter further—" Those pitch black eyes flick over to the unconscious Vulcan and back again. "—in a more private setting."

He automatically cringes as a strong hand lifts him upright with ease. Fighting, which McCoy does only half-heartedly, earns no reprieve from the stone wall that is a Vulcan—or a Vulcan imposter.

The doctor is silenced by a crushing hand against his throat when he cries out for help.

"No, McCoy," he is told. "You must pretend that all is well," a voice whispers in his ear. Then a voice in his head repeats _All is well_.

Leonard is pivoted like a doll, forced to walk down the hallway—this time by a true enemy—and into the Ready Room. He puts distance between himself and the monster the moment he is freed.

The creature orders "Seal the room."

"I can't," he answers feebly.

It shoves him to the panel by the door. "You have the authority." Leonard's upper arm aches where it digs its fingers into him. "Seal it!"

He doesn't argue. He locks the outside entrance with his pass-code, thinking that Jim will be delayed that much longer with overrides.

"Good." With a wide smile (damn, how Leonard hates seeing that evil grin twisting Spock's mouth), it speaks a little more calmly than before. "Now we have time." The creature circles him, and Leonard puts his back to the wall. "Tell me, McCoy, what game do we play?" It is amused.

"Game?" he manages roughly, his throat sore. "I don't… understand. How did you—Sulu—"

"There is a fool—" it says slowly, as if sorting through facts that are at best ridiculous, "—who is me and whom Jem-me chases."

Leonard shakes his head. "What did you do with my friend?"

Not-Spock frowns at him.

"Sulu," he spits. "You said you'd hurt one of my friends—and, I swear to God, if you don't tell me _what you did to him_—"

"Hikaru Sulu is untouched."

"You lying sack of shit!" Leonard thumps his fist against the wall, hearing a hollow sound and knows he stands in the right spot. "Where's my friend!"

"McCoy." That straight-backed Vulcan body paces in a half-circle. The creature seems to come to some decision. "The man called Sulu is irrelevant."

It steps in close. When a hand lifts to touch him, Leonard swallows hard. "Kill me already, would you?"

That hand drops. He is scrutinized.

"You treated me falsely," it tells its prey. "You cannot go unpunished."

His laugh is short and bitter. "Death is a pretty permanent punishment."

"Unsatisfactory." Leonard shivers, hearing Spock's voice. "I want—" It tilts its head and blinks as a thoughtful Vulcan would. "I want to peel your soul from your body."

Leonard envisions a fork digging into the muscle of the oyster and prying it from its shell. His stomach churns with nausea because that's what he is to this thing—a tasty treat to be devoured.

And it won't have the decency to put him out of his misery first.

"Will you scream?" it asks curiously.

He clamps his mouth shut.

"You will," he is assured.

The locked door rattles, someone hitting it, at the same time that a voice says from behind the imposter, "Any attempt to harm Leonard would be an unwise action."

Not-Spock spins around to stare at Selek, who meets its surprise with a calm lift of an eyebrow.

Good old_ Vulcan hiding in the bathroom _trick; Leonard sometimes wonders at Jim Kirk's brain.

"I recommend that you desist; you shall meet an ill fate if you do not."

_Spock, ever the diplomat._

The creature takes a moment to comprehend that an elder Vulcan is warning it off. Then it smiles and says, "You cannot damage me, _Spock_."

"No, but I sure as hell can."

It glances at McCoy, sees the phaser he holds, then the gaping hole of a storage compartment built into the wall next to Leonard, and goes still.

Leonard is distantly surprised that the phaser is steady in his hand. He releases a breath. "Thing is, you ugly overgrown bastard of a lizard, you got something that makes you vulnerable."

"McCoy." It says his name without blinking, with cold, fathomless eyes and, in them, a glimpse of an Abyss.

"You got a real, fucking body."

"You would not kill me," are the slow words.

Several things flash through Leonard's mind in that moment: the lost echo of _Bones, _of his friend torn into mere fragments of a soul_; _of another friend with troubled eyes and a steady voice as the Enterprise is directed into warp on a rescue mission that will cost too much; men, lying empty of spirit in his medical bay; and last of all, himself—touching a mirror and not recognizing his own face.

"This time," he answers, "I don't have a choice."

The phaser is his hand jumps at single press of the trigger.

Spock's face ripples, becoming something else—with hard discolored skin and sharp bones—right before it is engulfed in a blinding red glow. There is no scream of terror; nor of rage. Everything is simply silent—and then empty of a monster.

Leonard drops his arm and his phaser clatters to the floor. He thinks he should be numb, thinks that _yeah, maybe he is_. Then Selek captures his nerveless fingers and the message comes to him like crystal clear stars in a night sky.

_Be at peace, my friend._

Selek's mouth is saying, however, "I grieve for thee, that this task was yours and not mine."

"Yeah." His chest trembles with a laugh, perhaps a sorrow too. "Jim's gonna be pissed, but I—" His shoulders hit the wall with a thump. "—I had to be the one to do it."

"I understand." And Selek does, McCoy can see that.

There is a grating of the door as it slides open with ample help and a man jumps into the room, followed by several others—Scotty, Chekov, and Sulu. They are armed to the teeth. Leonard closes his eyes as he says, "Welcome to the party."

"Bones?" His name is said sharply. Then Kirk stares around the room, before turning to Selek. "You… did it?"

Selek meets Leonard's eyes. "It is done," answers the Vulcan.

Leonard nods his gratitude. He turns to look at Jim, who has his phaser still in hand and is staring at McCoy like he sees something that he can't quite decipher.

"You okay?" asks his friend and captain.

"Is Spock okay?" counters the doctor.

"He has a hard head. He'll be fine. Chapel put guards on him to keep him stationary. He's not happy."

"Then I'll be fine too, Jim."

It doesn't matter if the man believes his words or not. Leonard hears the ring of truth in them and simply knows that, yes, he will be okay.

The doctor pushes away from the wall with the words, "I need to take a look at Spock."

Jim doesn't argue.

_

* * *

_**One part left. Is it over? Hell no.  
**


	11. Part Eleven

**Part Eleven**

The hour is late but the haggard man is desperate. He doesn't go so far as to use his medical override to enter his friend's quarters but his thumb presses insistently on the buzzer of the comm unit.

After several seconds, no more than a minute, the door slides open to reveal a sharp-eyed Vulcan in a regulation pants and a thermal undershirt.

Words burst forth. "You have to help me!" There is no mistaking the man's fear.

"Leonard?" Spock steps aside to allow him entrance.

He sounds crazy. He is crazy, almost. "I'm sorry, Spock. I'm sorry but I don't think I can go t-to anyone else."

"Please explain," the Vulcan asks him.

"It's not gone," he says in a trembling, weary voice. Sliding a hand into his hair, the man tugs on it.

Spock asks him to sit down.

"The being was destroyed," his friend reminds him gently.

McCoy laughs, short and bitter. "We got rid of the body, Spock—the body. But tell me, can a spirit be vaporized?"

The Vulcan has no answer to that question.

"Exactly," Leonard says with heaviness.

"You have encountered it recently then," surmises the First Officer. "Where?"

He states, with a frightening clarity, "It's in my head, Spock. It's in my fucking head!"

_

* * *

A week ago…_

"_You'd think we could celebrate."_

"_Hey, I'm all for a party," responds Kirk as he chews._

_Leonard says nothing of the man's plateful of food; after all, as far as they can tell Jim hasn't seen a meal in a very long time. Kirk insists that it's important to savor the finer cuisine like hamburgers and cake. Leonard still pushes vegetables and fruits under Jim's nose when an opportunity arises._

"_Right. And how will we explain that to Command? 'Hi, fellas, we're just thrilled to be alive.'"_

_Jim's look says _we could try_._

_McCoy glances around the mess hall, looking for Spock—either version. No Vulcans are present. He leans forward. "Jim. Spock will be court-martial-ed on sight if we go back."_

"_I won't let that happen," the Captain says firmly._

"_He pretty much stole the ship against orders."_

"_I'll take care of it," Jim insists before shoving another forkful of potatoes into his mouth._

_McCoy gives up. He'll just have to trust that Jim can convince the Admiralty that Spock was acting in the best interest of the crew. _

"_Okay, Bones, I need you to stop thinking so much. Relax."_

_He frowns and crosses his arms. "Kid, I haven't been this relaxed in months."_

"_Then why do you keep looking over your shoulder?" his friend wants to know. Jim sets aside his meal, then, to pin McCoy with his full attention._

_Shrugging, McCoy considers how best to explain. "I suppose… I'm uneasy. It's like someone is close by, but I can't see them or hear them—but the presence is __there__." It reminds him too much of the creature, who was never subtle in its stalking of Doctor Leonard McCoy. "Jim… Is it possible—?"_

_He doesn't need to finish that sentence._

_Kirk's shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. "Anything's possible, Bones." The man reaches across the table to squeeze Leonard's forearm. "I'll have Spock and a team of his scientists run scans over the ship for anything out of the ordinary. In the meantime, you know that you can come to me if you need to."_

_Leonard nods in gratitude. When the Captain gathers his tray and tells the doctor that he is returning to the Bridge, McCoy watches him leave—and that unsettling feeling of someone next to him intensifies. He tosses away his own meal and heads back to Sickbay to occupy his mind with work._

_Crossing paths with Sulu reminds him that Spock isn't the only person aboard this ship dedicated to a cause—and with a career to lose if Command wants to point fingers. Sulu remarks with a grin as he passes by, "How was my acting, Doctor?"_

"_Perfection itself," replies Leonard. That's why, when Jim said that the best way to beat an enemy in a game was to change the rules in their favor, to lure it rather than be lured, McCoy had remembered the pilot's performance on Yonada and recommended him for the role of imposter._

_Sulu absently rubs at his arm where Nyota had left a lovely reminder that she thinks playing the damsel in distress is degrading to her gender. Leonard had smacked Sulu with a dermal regenerator when the man had said jokingly, "Maybe I should keep my battle scars; it's not every day someone can kidnap Uhura without getting kicked in the balls for the attempt."_

_Yeah, Jim may be a great Captain, but he is an insane strategist. Or perhaps those two things go together. The doctor isn't quite sure._

_Regardless, they certainly confused the sea dragon and prompted an attack. McCoy simply wishes that the First Officer need not have taken the brunt of it; though Spock insisted he would fare better than any other crewman. At the last minute, before Leonard proceeded to his quarters to meet Spock for the opening scene of the play, McCoy had hidden a weapon for himself in the Ready Room. Sadly, to carry a phaser in his belt would have tipped off his Captain to an unauthorized addition to the plan—not to mention alerted the enemy of deviousness running amok; however, Leonard felt strongly that Selek should not be responsible for taking a life, not this serene Vulcan who abandoned solitude on the New Vulcan to save McCoy's xenopolycythemic ass._

_A disease that will soon be treatable._

_Jim is correct that the Chief Medical Officer needs to have a clean—and irrefutable—bill of health before contact is made with Starfleet Command. Leonard couldn't agree more, because undoubtedly a majority of the Admiralty will be looking for any minute way to nail them with delinquent charges, to toss the too-young Kirk out of the flagship. In doing so, their happy family aboard the Enterprise will fall apart. _

_So soon enough, the proper treatment for xenopolycythemia begins. Yet lingering in the back of Leonard McCoy's mind is a worry—a quiet fear—that his cure still might be the death of him._

* * *

When Spock returns from fetching Leonard some water, McCoy downs the entire glass, then pulls out a flask from his pocket and refills it with whiskey. Spock says nothing as the doctor drinks that too.

"I must know all that you remember, Leonard."

"It's not like I can forget," he replies roughly. Then, with an aborted gesture of his hand, he apologizes. "You would think that I wouldn't be this damn scared after all that I've been through, Spock, but I—I'm not like you. I don't know how to defend myself here." He points at his temple. "I don't know anything about s-shields or—fuck. Can't you help me?"

"I will do what is within my power to help you, Doctor. You must relate the details," insists the Vulcan, "so that I am amply informed to fight this presence in your mind."

"I was having weird dreams," McCoy begins. "—and it felt as though someone was watching, beside me, all the time. Even when I was alone. I told Jim that part."

"The dreams, then," the Vulcan gently prompts.

"Well, it's more like a lack of dreaming. I thought my mind was just taking a break, to cope with—" Leonard swallows whatever words he had intended to say. Instead, he continues, "Never mind that. I'd fall asleep and there would be nothing. I don't always remember a dream when I wake up, but I will know that I had one. This is… different. It's like being taken somewhere empty and just existing there until your body wakes up. I don't know. I tried to ignore it."

He drops his head into one of his hands. "Of course it would turn out to be that son of a bitch. You just can't kill fucking Evil." He lifts his head, then, to stare at Spock. "It said I'm the one who let it in."

_

* * *

He falls asleep despite that he drank copious amounts of caffeine in order prevent himself from giving into the sweet call of his bed. With his head dropping back against his desk chair, Leonard McCoy succumbs to a much more danger voice—one that faintly encourages him to sleep. Calls him McCoy.  
_

_It's the unending dark again._

_Leonard feels the weight of it pressing down. This time, however, the void is not empty. That strange feeling of being watched turns into a certainty in this place. Leonard slowly seeks the source, calling _Hello? Hello?

Do you not remember? _answers someone too softly._

_Leonard strains to catch the words._

I don't know—should I?

_Then the thing in the dark abandons floating somewhere far behind him and moves within range. McCoy's mind recognizes it instantly._

Shit. You're dead!

What is dead, McCoy?_ the creature counters. _What is alive? You took my body. That is not all I was._ It moves in closer._ That is not all that you are, human.

You can't hurt me_, he says. Then, with force, _Wake up, idiot. This is a nightmare. WAKE UP!

Do not leave so soon, _it tells him._ I am… pleased by your presence. I need it.

You don't need me—you never fucking needed me. You wanted me! There's a difference!

I have you,_ it clarifies._

You can't. You aren't real—here.

This is my sanctuary, my birthplace. This is the Abyss—where I come after death to be reborn again into the world.

Good for you. Enjoy your afterlife, you sick fuck. I'm leaving.

McCoy_, it cries sharply. _I give you a choice now—let me in willingly and you shall come to no harm. Defy my will and I must destroy you.

_He wants to wake up. He wants wake up right now. Let it in? What does that mean?_

_There is tug on him and McCoy reels back, fear spiking and—_

_The man startles awake, eyes wide and heart pounding. _A crazy nightmare_, he thinks. _We killed it. I killed it.

_The presence sitting in the back of his mind begs to differ. It says simply,_ I am here.

_Leonard stumbles into his bathroom to splash water on his face. It doesn't help, not at all, and he ends up on his knees emptying his stomach's contents into the toilet. Finally unable to continue throwing up—there's nothing left but bile—he leans shakily against the wall, a knee drawn to his chest._

You really are… in me, aren't you?

Yes_, it agrees. _Our connection is strong, McCoy.

I don't understand how that's possible._ I don't understand why you haunt me even after you're dead. That last part he does not say, barely thinks lest the thing in his head pick up on his despair._

We are connected_, it insists. _You let me in before.

_What is it talking about? He didn't—he never—let it screw with his mind for kicks. It's lying._

When?_ he demands. _

_A sharp pain explodes in the side of his head and, with it, a memory: Leonard, pressed against the door of a small examination room; an ensign—no, the creature behind another face—touching him, crooning, "Here is a gift, then, if you will."_

_A gift—and a hook that sinks deep into his mind and secures the two together._

You remove my body_, it tells the human called Leonard McCoy, _but you cannot remove me. I shall return.

* * *

Spock's face, including his eyes, are blank. Leonard swallows, knowing how grandly he has screwed up. He can't think of anything to say but "I'm so damn sorry, Spock."

The muted pounding of a fist against Spock's door interrupts their conversation. Spock rises and releases the lock. Somewhere deep inside himself, Leonard knows that he shouldn't be surprised to find Jim stomping through the door. Or even surprised that Jim apparently picked up Old Spock on his way over.

McCoy doesn't bother to chastise his friend for calling his captain.

Jim stares at McCoy, jaw working. When the man refuses to sit down, unlike Selek who graciously accepts a seat at the table, Leonard prepares to endure a lecture from his superior officer. Instead, Jim Kirk reaches out and plants a hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"Bones?"

He slumps in relief. "I'm a fool twice-over, Jimmy."

"Do you remember that speech you gave me in Sickbay?"

He chuckles. "Which time? I've lectured you plenty in the med bay." Some of those times, Jim wasn't even awake or aware of his ranting.

Jim's vivid blue eyes catch his. "I'll shorthand it. It's not your fault."

Oh.

Leonard nods his understanding.

Does that alleviate the terrible truth that there is a monster waiting to share his brain?

Not in the least.

Jim settles for pacing the length of the room as McCoy explains that he unknowingly provided a loophole for the creature to continue its torment. No one says much for a short period of time thereafter.

The Vulcans share a look that Leonard almost misses. Selek is the first to break the silence. "Spock and I seek your permission to engage in a meld of our minds, Leonard. Will you allow us to help?"

His smile is small and bitter. "I figured there wouldn't be any other way to fight it. I promise not to make a fuss." Leonard looks around. "Maybe if we can sit on the floor like last time?"

Jim stands awkwardly while the three settle into the same positions—McCoy and Spock facing one another, Selek centered on their right side, close enough to touch both.

"Jim," Spock says to the human. "If you will join us."

Kirk drops into a cross-legged position opposite of Selek. "I, uh, I don't think there's enough Vulcans hands to include me."

Selek and Spock both raise their eyebrows.

Leonard chuckles for the first time since he scrambled out of his bathroom and run headlong to Spock's quarters with a foreign amusement battering at the inside of his brain. "That's a shame, Jim-boy. If two Vulcans and a creepy-ass dragon are going to be throwing punches in my head, I'm sure you'd fit right in."

Kirk pokes his shoulder. "Well, I'm not leaving."

No, he wouldn't expect Jim Kirk to do that.

"Good. Then you can prop me up."

Jim takes his joke literally, scooting behind the doctor to act as support. Leonard decides that to complain would be foolish. He may actually need Jim to hold onto him if he loses his mind.

"I'm ready."

Spock nods once, extending his arms and placing cool fingertips against McCoy's face. He vaguely wonders how Old Spock plans to join them, and Spock must pluck out that surface thought. The Vulcan answers calmly, "He will merge with my mind."

Leonard purposefully digs an elbow into Jim's stomach as the man starts to make a lewd comment about threesomes. "Please tell me," McCoy says to Selek, "that your Jim was more of a gentlemen that this brat."

Selek's eyes grow distant for a moment, and Leonard regrets his question. Then the elder Vulcan remarks, "My Captain retained the exuberance of youth—though this facet of his personality was more… evident when he became inebriated."

"Sometimes I think Jim is in a permanent state of drunkenness."

Kirk argues, "Excuse me? Who was drunk when we met?"

"Who partied like a frat boy without a lick of sense during mid-terms?"

"Who—"

Selek interrupts smoothly, "We should proceed."

_Poor Spock, his arms are probably gettin' tired_, sympathizes Leonard. "Proceed, then."

The room falls away. He is suddenly drifting, feels something—someone—catch him and reel him back in. When McCoy opens his eyes, it's to find Spock at his side and surroundings that definitely aren't part of a starship.

His mind.

They stand on what looks like a platform. Ahead of them, far away, brights colors dance and intermingle and radiate like an Aurora Borealis. No discernible structure is attached to their surroundings, as if they float freely in space. That space has a vastness to it which shocks Leonard, yet gives him a feeling of being warm and alive.

"You are unwelcome here," Spock announces, tossing a challenge into that vastness.

"Am I not?"

Leonard turns around, to the voice, stares into his own face. The eyes regarding him are much darker than his own.

Then the Doctor McCoy lookalike says, "We meet again, Spock."

The Vulcan steps in front of McCoy, shifting so that he shields Leonard. "Your presence is unwanted. You will withdraw your link to the doctor's mind."

That head tilts, strange eyes fixed on the human. "Leave? No. I am adrift and McCoy is responsible. He must surrender to me."

Let the creature use his body and mind as a host? Leonard would rather die.

As if the man had said those words, Spock stiffens. He touches the center of the Vulcan's back, surprised that even here, in a metaphysical state, his friend feels solid and real. _What can I do to help?_ is his single concentration. The thought sails away as if on a current of air.

The other McCoy slides away from them, face blank but eyes alive. "I will not go."

"You do not have the power to stay," counters Spock.

Though the other makes no move or sound, McCoy recognizes the disembodied hiss as belonging to the creature.

Spock stalks forward and the creature retreats.

"You alone cannot win," it tells him.

The Vulcan answers, "I am not alone." Then, in a subtly different voice, still Spock's (only deep with age), that mouth says, "We are one."

Leonard catches a glimpse of Spock's face, sees the shift of it like another exists below and recalls the last time that this happened. Selek has joined them, and Leonard would bet that the elder Vulcan's meld with Spock is more fluid and intrinsic than a meld with another being. After all, they are both Spock, with alike minds, one old and one young.

"You cannot win," repeats the enemy.

A wall forms behind it.

Spock (the Spocks?) says nothing, merely raises a hand and pins the creature to that wall. Leonard skirts around the Vulcan, fixated on the way the monster trembles, this usually smug thing that has terrorized and damaged several lives for the past couple of months.

It is afraid.

Leonard can't remember it ever being afraid before, not even as he leveled a phaser at its chest and it realized he would shoot.

That means Spock is right—it's weak.

He almost sags at that realization. So by frightening him before, it had taken a chance that he would be too distraught, too terrified, to resist. But Leonard has friends who will care for him when he cannot care for himself; friends who will stand by him when he thinks he stands alone.

Spock turns his head to McCoy as the not-McCoy's head lolls to the side. "We must destroy the anchor points of the link."

He stares. "Do we know where they are?"

The Vulcan steps back from the creature, who no-longer supported by Vulcan strength (or chained by it) slumps, then melts into the floor and disappears.

"Yes."

He doesn't bother to ask how Spock, either or both of them, extracted that information.

Spock strides forward into the bright lights, Leonard on his heels and wondering if they are going to fall when they step off of the platform. Instead, the pair finds themselves in a long door-less corridor formed out of colorful mist.

When the Vulcan speaks to Leonard, it is clearly Selek in control. "By order of the Captain, you examined the unknown entity after the initial return to the Enterprise from the planet."

"Yes" he confirms, despite that the Vulcan makes a statement rather than asks a question.

"Please remember that moment, Leonard."

He closes his eyes and recalls _It tried to bite me._ A hand presses upon his shoulder a few seconds later. Leonard opens his eyes to find that a door has appeared further down the corridor. They walk to it, entering into the memory.

Leonard blinks, suddenly finding himself in his medical bay. In one hand, he holds a tricorder; his other arm has been captured by long, cold fingers. The creature (black eyes, scales and all) blinks up at him, silent. Then it seems to sense another presence, for it looks to Spock standing by the door and two words filter into the memory.

_Do not._

Spock calmly walks forward, reaches down to where it has a locked grip on McCoy and snaps its wrist. With a horrible shriek, the thing screams defiance and loss before it disperses like it never existed. Leonard sways like he is light-headed.

"Come, Leonard," calls the Vulcan. "We must move on."

In the corridor again, he is asked to think a place called the Abyss. Leonard immediately shakes his head. "I never want to go there again, Spock!"

"This is your mind, Leonard," Selek reminds him. "There is no Abyss here, fear not. This creature—it held an image of Jim—"

Understanding dawns. Not-Kirk's words come back to him: "_You may not leave until I am finished_."

Another door appears on the opposite side of the corridor, and behind that door…

Now in his quarters, Leonard startles to see a body form out of a shadow.

It belongs to Jim.

It also belongs to a monster.

McCoy recalls what is supposed to happen in this memory (where it leads) and flattens himself against the wall. "Stay back!" he warns.

"Our union is inevitable," says Kirk. The creature looks over its shoulder at Spock but the Vulcan remains motionless and silent, hands clasped behind his back.

McCoy watches it shift, knows what comes next. "Spock!" he calls. "Do whatever is you're going to damn well do! _Spock!_"

Jim is next to him in an instant, latching onto him. Out of instinct, he tries to punch the bastard like last time but is caught too tightly, spun around—

A sickening_ crack_ echoes in the room and that foreign weight drops away. Leonard turns, stumbling on his feet (dizzy again) to find the body of Jim Kirk on the floor, neck at an unnatural angle. Then not-Kirk fades.

Spock meets his wide eyes. "There is one anchor left."

He nods mutely and they leave that now-empty memory behind. Once in the long corridor, Leonard speaks before his companion can. "The last anchor was set when I asked it to restore my memories, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

He doesn't bother to think or remember; McCoy simply pushes his will outwards and strides to a door that pops into existence. Without waiting for Spock to lead, he steps through the doorway, spies the familiar-faced ensign lounging on the examination table in the small room.

He swallows hard. "I ignored the fact that most of my memory was restored—except for this one moment. I should have questioned it, Spock. I wish I had."

The voice that answers certainly belongs to _his_ Spock and no other. "I find it necessary to remind you of your earlier advice: 'Self-recrimination is simply pointless.'"

"Okay, when this is over, I'll have to sit both you and Jim down for a little chat—because you ain't supposed to repeat the doctor's words of wisdom _to the doctor_."

"Indeed," Spock replies in a way that means _your statement is silly and I will do as I please_.

"You are foolish beings," the ensign interrupts.

"It's you who are a damn fool," bites out the doctor. "Spock, I'll take care of this anchor."

There is a second of silence before a combination of two voices reply, woven into one, "As you wish."

The ensign—the monster with the face of an ensign—seems amused at McCoy. Of course it would be. Leonard walks backwards to the door, knowing that Spock will move out of his way, not interfere because he asked. The creature follows, unable to do otherwise. They are, both of them, puppets to memory.

_I'm no one's puppet_, Leonard tells himself fiercely. _Especially not in my own damn mind!_ The room rattles with the force of his willpower._  
_

That hand lifts, reaches out to set the final anchor—now the last thread of the link—and McCoy drops his head back against the door.

"I don't think so."

Out of his pocket, he pulls a fully loaded hypospray—one which had been on his person at the time in which this scene originally took place. He had carried it as protection while searching the ship for the creature and later forgotten that it was in his pocket. Even after discovering that the creature waiting for him instead, he had not used it (not in that real-time), because he wanted his memories back too badly.

The creature's lips curl in a snarl, because it knows it cannot run, not bound by the memory as it is.

McCoy says, "Fuck you," and stabs the hypospray into its neck, depressing the entirety of its content in one lethal dose.

It jerks away. "McCoy!" it cries, a final word. Then the sea dragon from Hell is gone.

And Leonard's mind bursts into the flames. The memory shatters, the corridor along with it. Around him, the bright colors flee and he is falling down a bottomless pit, the fire with him.

He panics.

_Do not resist!_ yells someone far away. Hands grab him, catch him in freefall, then entrap him. In his terror, he almost thinks _it_ has come back (never leaves him alone) and is trying to steal his soul again. In another place, McCoy fights the arms pulling him into an embrace.

_Leonard, we are here. Do not resist. _

_Fire_, he tries to say. _I'm burnin'!_

_Leonard, be calm. _

_Hurts—it hurts!_

_Bones? Bones!_

A new voice now, a third voice. So familiar. So…

_Jimmy?_

_Oh Bones, you'll be okay, you're okay—_

Someone is rocking him, running fingers through his hair, murmuring. Leonard shudders under the comfort, finally works around the pain and fire in his head to realize that he has a body and he hears real, honest-to-God voices.

McCoy opens an eye, peeks at a Jim who is pale and turns his face into Kirk's chest. "_It fuckin' hurts_," he mutters into a shirt.

Kirk pets his hair some more. "Spock and, um, Spock should it'd get better. Right, Spock? He'll be okay?" McCoy hears the desperation in that question.

"Affirmative. Leonard, you must allow us to sedate you."

If he's sedated, he'll be oblivious to this roaring pain. "Yeah, good, _right now, 'k?_"

Leonard doesn't have the presence of mind (or barely any un-scorched shred of mind at all) to appreciate the irony at the hiss of the hypospray against his skin; he only feels a settling detachment and muscles growing lax.

It's soon safe to float away.

A cheek is pressed to the top of his head. "You're alright, Bones."

"_It's gone?_" are the slurred words, his mouth not cooperating.

Someone says, "Yes. The link is severed. Your mind is free, my friend."

_About. Damn. Time._

The command of "Sleep" he obeys easily and with little protest.

**

* * *

I'm thinking there has to be an epilogue… yeah?**


	12. Epilogue

**Part Eleven was posted yesterday. Read it first if you have not!**

**

* * *

This series broke my brain. TRUFACT.**

**For those of you who faithfully stuck with me as the story arc turned trilogy, you will understand me when I say this has been a long, intense, and often painful road. There were times when I was certain that I had created a monster that no one - including our beloved men - could defeat. Towards the last chapters of The Boy and the Sea Dragon, it became apparent to me that this story was moving beyond the scope of a creature fixated on Jim Kirk; in fact, there had been**_** creatures**_** plural and while Jim seemed to be at the heart of things, I kept wondering why they were drawn to McCoy. What made Bones so special? Then the finale happened and I was shocked at what I had written. I didn't think I would pursue the storyline further.**

**The Man and the Memory was born unexpectedly; in particular, in a POV that I have never before attempted in a ST fic. It was McCoy - and it was a McCoy that had no idea who he was or what had happened. I thought: **_**oh God, how many times can you bring the hammer down on Leonard before he breaks?  
**_**  
Apparently a hell of a lot!**

**Soon after I began the middle piece, I realized again that something strange was happening. The creature was developing a particular attitude towards McCoy - and it often crossed the line from creepy to obsessive. Again, what was it that made our beloved doctor the focal point of such desire? And perhaps more importantly, would he survive?**

**I won't go on to bore you with details. Let's just say… Angst much?**

**At times I thought that if I kept going, the story would become too heavy to bear - or write. It was surprisingly Selek who helped calm me, as he established a solid and protective presence in the last part of the trilogy, The Elder and the Young (which, if it isn't obvious – alludes to the two Spocks). So if Spock!Prime was there, all hope had not been lost. I continued to write, the sea dragon continued to toss obstacles in my way, and low and behold… we come to the epilogue!**

**With that said, it's about time I wrapped up the last loose ends.**

**Enjoy!**

**

* * *

Epilogue**

Leonard sprays his mouthful of coffee over his desk. Jim is safely out of range, smiling with one booted foot propped on the edge of another chair.

The doctor wipes his mouth on his sleeve and mutters a curse. Then, "_God_, Jim, you said what?"

"Well," muses the man, "it was either that Spock wasn't really Spock when he commandeered the ship—"

They both know that won't work on the Admiralty—and that the First Officer was very much in his right mind when he made his command decisions. Spock would be insulted if anyone insisted otherwise and announce that, yes, he disobeyed and, no, he hasn't an iota of regret (though Spock would be coldly formal with his phrasing and not an angry mess like McCoy). Vulcans are stubborn; enough so that McCoy often dreams of slapping a kit and caboodle of 'em upside their pointy-eared heads.

There is also little chance that they could convince the Vulcan to remain silent while someone concocted a story about the creature who stealing the ship in the guise of Acting Captain. Spock is too steeped in honor to let that pass. Alas, while Leonard appreciates an honest Vulcan, one of these days, the doctor is going to make Spock sit down and take lessons from Selek on subtle word play.

Jim is still talking, narrowing his eyes in memory. "—which wouldn't work, or our best option which is some tiny-print regulation that states an officer in command can disobey a direct order if he has sufficient evidence to prove that the order would make a hostile situation more hostile. I think. Selek explained it to me with much bigger words."

"Well, that's actually the truth, Jim. We had a power-hungry—" Hungry for other savory bits too. "—and dangerous creature hiding on the ship." Leonard purses his lips. "Spock is capable of arguin' that case until Command breaks down and folds just to make him shut up."

Jim's eyes twinkle. "Pike said nearly the same thing. It won't soothe everybody's tempers but we have enough eye-witnesses and injured parties on our side to prove the case."

Leonard stares at Captain Kirk for a minute. Then he chuckles in relief. "Can I lie and tell Spock we want him to act possessed like Sulu?"

"Bones, it's not nice to tease a Vulcan."

"'Cause they only pick up on half of the teasin'—a waste of good jokes, if you ask me," replies the doctor.

The two men share a grin.

McCoy sobers. "So you told Pike the whole story." He doesn't bother to make it a question.

Jim nods anyway. "Admiral Pike is one of the few men who would believe the tale—and approve of the actions taken, maybe reacted in the same way if it had been a member of his old crew. He also understands Spock's value to Starfleet—as an officer in both command and science." Then Kirk adds more softly, "And Christopher knows what would happen if Command tried to remove Spock as my First Officer."

Leonard says nothing, because that tone of Jim Kirk's voice alludes to a fierce side of the man that only comes to light when Kirk's family is threatened. It's rarely seen but deadly.

"So," Jim continues, "we will dock the Enterprise at the nearest starbase. Pike's already working on removing the bounty against us."

"Do you think those jack-asses in Command will agree to rescind it?"

"Yeah, I do. They want their ship back in one piece—and we can outmatch any other 'Fleet vessel in a battle."

Leonard finishes, "_And_ the sooner we get to the base, the sooner they can flock over us like vultures waiting on a tasty piece of carrion."

Sighing, Jim rubs the back of his neck. "Yes, the ship may be on lockdown for some time."

While its crew is interrogated, prodded and poked for lies or any gaping holes in their story. McCoy doesn't look forward to that, not at all.

"The good news, Bones, is that you're going to have the medical breakthrough of the century when we're there."

He lifts an eyebrow and responds dryly, "I am?"

"Mmhm."

"I'm not taking all the credit, Jim. The Fabrini deserve the recognition."

"I know, Doctor," answers the Captain. "I wouldn't expect you to do otherwise."

"So how do we explain _Yonada_? 'Guess what, the Enterprise sort of ran into an asteroid ship while being chased across the galaxy!'" Sarcasm makes Leonard feel much better. He lifts his cup of coffee to take a satisfied swallow, only to realize that the liquid left in bottom is cold. With a grimace, he discards the mug and fixes his 'serious face' on the man seated across from him.

Jim meets his look with one of amusement. "That's not a bad idea. In fact, didn't the creature practically input the coordinates into the navigational system?"

He nods.

"So we use the truth—slighted skewed, of course."

_And consider it a bonus that they can prove their misadventure saved Daran V from obliteration._ Command is going to have a lot of "good press" shoved down their throats. Leonard ought to make a few calls to colleagues—sneakily spread the word of his impending cure for xenopolycythemia. The more people excited about the miraculous things the Enterprise has done while out in space, the more heat Command will take if they decide in favoring of relieving an officer of duty.

Leonard's sharp eyes don't miss the way that Jim winces as he turns his head.

"Headaches any better?" he asks mildly, already scanning the top of his messy desk for a tricorder.

"Yes and no. They don't last as long as they used to but they hurt—Jesus, do they hurt."

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, you heathen."

Jim rolls his eyes and points out that McCoy commits that sin more frequently than anyone else on the ship.

Leonard says, "For Christ's sake, most of the people on this ship aren't even religious."

Then he realizes what he just said, and Jim laughs in his face. In retaliation, he forgoes the medical tricorder in lieu of direct treatment. Jim's eyes widen when the doctor circles the desk with a hypospray in hand.

"Calm down, Bones!"

He gives Jim a quick shot to relieve the migraine. It is satisfying to know that by now Jim understands that running away is futile. Leonard has other, more cunning methods for medicating his captain if need be—and Jim's personal yeoman on his side.

"If your migraines don't ease off in the next month, I'm going to start treating you for tension headaches, Jim."

Kirk frowns. "I don't get tension headaches."

"Sure, kid. Keep telling yourself that."

Leonard won't mention the fact that in another universe, James T. Kirk did suffer them frequently and that Doctor McCoy had his captain on a regular prescription. Old Spock is full of such useful information.

He stills in the middle of laying down the half-empty hypospray on his desk. "Shit, I forgot! What about Spock?" At Jim's look, he hastily tacks on, "I mean, Old Spock. Doesn't that throw a wrench into things?"

"Why should it? Selek showed up for a visit with his friend Captain Kirk; it's no secret that we communicate regularly. How was he supposed to know that the Enterprise had been infiltrated?"

Jim's answer is so smooth that Leonard almost believes Selek did unknowingly walk into a danger zone. Since he cannot rebuff Jim, nor wants to, Leonard focuses on the only part that riles him. "'_No secret_,' huh, Jim?" the man remarks idly as he settles a hip against the desk and crosses his arms.

Jim squirms under his stare, suddenly no longer the smooth-talking Captain and more of Jim-boy, an idiot who forgot to mention a very relevant piece of information to his best friend.

"You wouldn't have believed me, Bones."

"About an alternate universe green-blooded hobgoblin that helped you save an entire planet? Jim," Leonard sighs. "we've seen a lot of crazy with a capital C over the years. I promise I would have believed you." He pauses. "Eventually. After your medical examination for dementia came back clean."

Jim pulls his _Don't you pity this sad face?_ look. "I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." McCoy leans forward into Kirk's personal space. "But think careful now, Jimmy. Are there any more—" At the look in Kirk's eyes, and knowing that it would be cruel to ask for all of a man's secrets, he says, "—Vulcan acquaintances of epic proportions that you're hidin' from me?"

Jim shakes his head with a smile. "Oh wait. There _was_ this one hot Vulcan chick…"

"I hope she punched you."

"She was too polite to punch a starship Captain. She was very matter-of-fact about the concept of sexual relations with my person."

"Froze your balls off, then."

McCoy relaxes and notes that Jim does the same. After a moment of staring at his closed office door, he decides to push ahead with a half-formed idea.

"I was thinking… we ought to throw that party."

"Party?"

"Yeah. The celebratory one."

"We have plenty to celebrate," Jim concedes, serious.

He nods. "Yes, we do. Maybe…" Looking at his friend, he says, "We should hold it in honor of Spock. He deserves a hell of a lot of praise and thanks."

"Bones, he would say his actions were logical and he was bound by duty."

Leonard smiles. "And no one would believe a word of that bullshit. It'll be good for Spock—and show the crew that you support him, not only as a friend, but as a man who may, some day, replace you again as Captain of this ship." _Lord forbid that ever happens, Jim, but it might. We came too close to losing you this time._ Then he reaches down to take Jim's hand and squeeze it; Kirk squeezes back.

In his own quiet way, while people mingle and laugh, feel their world right itself again, McCoy will celebrate his freedom; he will celebrate these friends who are dear to his heart, to whom he owes his life; he will celebrate the end of two long traumatic months and the return of Jim Kirk.

But most of all, Leonard McCoy shall savor the knowledge of just how damned lucky he is to be right here, right now.

Jim rises from his chair and says, "See you after shift, Bones."

"Dinner in your quarters?"

"And a game of chess."

"You know I have no patience for chess."

"The chess is for Spock; the Saurian brandy will be for you." Jim winks and walks out of office of the ship's CMO.

Well, he decides as he turns on his computer console and pulls up the messaging system, Selek should be invited to their impromptu gathering. After all, Selek will be en route to New Vulcan soon enough, and the doctor is certain that the elder Vulcan still has unshared interesting tidbits on how to cope with a Captain named Kirk and a Vulcan First Officer. Leonard acknowledges a deeper purpose too as he taps out the message.

When Jim and Spock are distracted by their game, Leonard will whisper words of gratitude to Old Spock and remind him that in any universe, they must be destined to meet and know one another.

Selek, of course, shall reply, "Indeed, Leonard. I am, and always shall be, your friend."

_-Fini_


End file.
